UC-NRI 


35    fllfl 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF 
POOR  RICHARD 

By 

IRVING 
BACHELLER 


OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF 
POOR  RICHARD 

By 

IRVING 
BACHELLER 


IN  THE  DAYS  of 
POOR  RICHARD 


IN  THE  DAYS 
OF  POOR  RICHARD 


By 

IRVING  BACHELLER 

Author  of 

The  Light  in  The  Clearing 
A  Man  for  the  Ages,  Etc. 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


OF 
•HfpTT  *5l 


Copyright,  1922 
BY  IRVING  BAG  HELLER 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH   4.  CO 

BOOK   MANUFAC IURERS 

BROOKLYN^    N.    Y. 


To  MY  FRIEND 
ALBERT  J.  BEVERIDGE 

Discerning  Student  and  Interpreter  of 
the  Spirit  of  the  Prophets,  the  Struggle 
of  the  Heroes  and  the  Wisdom  of  the 
Founders  of  Democracy,  I  Dedicate 
This  Volume. 


2046852 


FOREWORD 

Much  of  the  color  of  the  love-tale  of  Jack 
and  Margaret,  which  is  a  part  of  the  greater 
love-story  of  man  and  liberty,  is  derived  from 
old  letters,  diaries,  and  newspaper  clippings 
in  the  possession  of  a  well-known  American 
family. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


BOOK    ONE 

I  The  Horse   Valley  Adventure 1 

II  Sowing    the    Dragon's    Teeth 44 

III  The    Journey    to    Philadelphia 69 

IV  The   Crossing 88 

V  Jack  Sees  London  and  the  Great  Philosopher  98 

VI  The    Lovers 115 

VII  The   Dawn 126 

VIII  An   Appointment   and  a    Challenge     ....  141 

IX  The      Encounter 155 

X  The  Lady  of  the  Hidden  Face 164 

XI  The      Departure 175 

XII  The  Friend  and  the  Girl  He  Left  Behind  Him  182 

BOOK  TWO 

XIII  The    Ferment       186 

XIV  Adventures  in  the  Service  of  the  Commander- 

in-Chief 210 

XV  In  Boston  Jail 230 

XVI  Jack  and  Solomon  Meet  the  Great  Ally     .     .  242 

XVII  With  the  Army  and  in  the  Bush 260 

XVIII  How    Solomon    Shifted    the    Skeer 267 

XIX  The  Voice  of  a  Woman  Sobbing 283 

XX  The  First  Fourth  of  July 291 

XXI  The     Ambush 296 

XXII  The   Binkussing  of  Colonel   Burley    ....  301 

XXIII  The  Greatest  Trait  of  a  Great  Commander  309 


CONTENTS— Continued 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


BOOK  THREE 
XXIV     In  France  with  Franklin     .     .     .     ...     .     .     319 

XXV    The     Pageant 331 

XXVI    In  Which   Appears  the   Horse   of   Destiny  and 

the  Judas  of  Washington's  Army 345 

XXVII     Which  Contains  the  Adventures  of  Solomon 
in  the  Timber  Sack  and  on  the  "Hand-made 

River" 354 

XXVIII     In  Which  Arnold  and  Henry  Thornhill  Arrive 

in   the   Highlands 366 

XXIX     Love  and  Treason 376 

XXX     "Who    Is    She    that    Looketh    Forth    as    the 
Morning,  Fair  as  the  Moon,  Clear  as  the  Sun, 
and  Terrible  as  an  Army  with  Banners?"     .     .     388 
XXXI     The   Lovers   and   Solomon's   Last   Fight  396 


IN  THE  DAYS  of 
POOR  RICHARD 


In  the  Days  of  Poor  Richard 

BOOK     ONE 
CHAPTER  I 

THE    HORSE    VALLEY    ADVENTURE 

"THE  first  time  I  saw  the  boy,  Jack  Irons,  he  was 
about  nine  years  old.  I  was  in  Sir  William  Johnson's 
camp  of  magnificent  Mohawk  warriors  at  Albany. 
Jack  was  so  active  and  successful  in  the  games,  be- 
tween the  red  boys  and  the  white,  that  the  Indians 
called  him  'Boiling  Water/  His  laugh  and  tireless 
spirit  reminded  me  of  a  mountain  brook.  There  was 
no  lad,  near  his  age,  who  could  run  so  fast,  or  jump 
so  far,  or  shoot  so  well  with  the  bow  or  the  rifle.  I 
carried  him  on  my  back  to  his  home,  he  urging  me  on 
as  if  I  had  been  a  battle  horse  and  when  we  were  come 
to  the  house,  he  ran  about  doing  his  chores.  I  helped 
him,  and,  our  work  accomplished,  we  went  down  to  the 
river  for  a  swim,  and  to  my  surprise,  I  found  him  a 
well  taught  fish.  We  became  friends  and  always  when 
I  have  thought  of  him,  the  words  Happy  Face  have 
come  to  me.  It  was,  I  think,  a  better  nickname  than 
'Boiling  Water,'  although  there  was  much  propriety  in 
the  latter.  I  knew  that  his  energy  given  to  labor  would 

I 


2        IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

accomplish  much  and  when  I  left  him,  I  repeated  the 
words  which  my  father  had  often  quoted  in  my 
hearing : 

"  'Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  calling?  He 
shall  stand  before  kings.' ' 

This  glimpse  of  John  Irons,  Jr. — familiarly  known 
as  Jack  Irons — is  from  a  letter  of  Benjamin  Franklin 
to  his  wife. 

Nothing  further  is  recorded  of  his  boyhood  until, 
about  eight  years  later,  what  was  known  as  the  "Horse 
Valley  Adventure"  occurred.  A  full  account  of  it 
follows  with  due  regard  for  background  and  color : 

"It  was  the  season  o'  the  great  moon,"  said  old 
Solomon  Binkus,  scout  and  interpreter,  as  he  leaned 
over  the  camp-fire  and  flicked  a  coal  out  of  the  ashes 
with  his  forefinger  and  twiddled  it  up  to  his  pipe  bowl. 
In  the  army  he  was  known  as  "old  Solomon  Binkus," 
not  by  reason  of  his  age,  for  he  was  only  about  thirty- 
eight,  but  as  a  mark  of  deference.  Those  who  followed 
him  in  the  bush  had  a  faith  in  his  wisdom  that  was 
childlike.  "I  had  had  my  feet  in  a  pair  o'  sieves 
walkin'  the  white  sea  a  fortnight,"  he  went  on.  "The 
dry  water  were  six  foot  on  the  level,  er  mebbe  more, 
an'  some  o'  the  waves  up  to  the  tree-tops,  an'  nobody 
with  me  but  this  'ere  ol'  Marier  Jane*  the  hull  trip  to 
the  Swegache  country.  Gol'  ding  my  pictur' !  It 
seemed  as  if  the  wind  were  a-tryin'  fer  to  rub  it  off 
the  slate.  It  were  a  pesky  wind  that  kep'  a-cufiin'  me 
an'  whistlin'  in  the  briers  on  my  face  an'  crackin'  my 

*His  rifle. 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE   3 

coat-taiL.  I  were  lonesome — lonesomer'n  a  he-bear — 
an'  the  cold  grabbin'  holt  o'  all  ends  o'  me -so  as  I  had 
to  stop  an'  argue  'bout  whar  my  bound'ry-lines  was 
located  like  I  were  York  State.  Cat's  blood  an'  gun- 
powder !  I  had  to  kick  an'  scratch  to  keep  my  nose  an* 
toes  from  gittin' — brittle." 

At  this  point,  Solomon  Binkus  paused  to  give  his 
words  a  chance  "to  sink  in."  The  silence  which  fol- 
lowed was  broken  only  by  the  crack  of  burning  fag- 
gots and  the  sound  of  the  night  wind  in  the  tall  pines 
above  the  gorge.  Before  Mr.  Binkus  resumes  his  nar- 
rative, which,  one  might  know  by  the  tilt  of  his  head 
and  the  look  of  his  wide  open,  right  eye,  would  soon 
happen,  the  historian  seizes  the  opportunity  of  finish- 
ing his  introduction.  He  had  been  the  best  scout  in 
the  army  of  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst.  As  a  small  boy  he 
had  been  captured  by  the  Senecas  and  held  in  the* tribe 
a  year  and  two  months.  Early  in  the  French  and 
Indian  War,  he  had  been  caught  by  Algonquins  and 
tied  to  a  tree  and  tortured  by  hatchet  throwers  until 
rescued  by  a  French  captain.  After  that  his  opinion 
of  Indians  had  been,  probably,  a  bit  colored  by  preju- 
dice. Still  later  he  had  been  a  harpooner  in  a  whale 
boat,  and  in  his  young  manhood,  one  of  those  who  hac? 
escaped  the  infamous  massacre  at  Fort  William  Henry 
when  English  forces,  having  been  captured  and  dis- 
armed, were  turned  loose  and  set  upon  by  the  savages. 
He  was  a  tall,  brawny,  broad-shouldered,  homely-faced 
man  of  thirty-eight  with  a  -Roman  nose  and  a 


4         IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

prominent  chin  underscored  by  a  short  sandy  throat 
beard.  Some  of  the  adventures  had  put  their  mark 
upon  his  weathered  face,  shaven  generally  once  a  week 
above  the  chin.  The  top  of  his  left  ear  was  missing. 
There  was  a  long  scar  upon  his  forehead.  These  were 
like  the  notches  on  the  stock  of  his  rifle.  They  were 
a  sign  of  the  stories  of  adventure  to  be  found  in  that 
wary,  watchful  brain  of  his. 

Johnson  enjoyed  his  reports  on  account  of  their 
humor  and  color  and  he  describes  him  in  a  letter  to 
Putnam  as  a  man  who  "when  he  is  much  interested, 
looks  as  if  he  were  taking  aim  with  his  rifle."  To  soroe 
it  seemed  that  one  eye  of  Mr.  Binkus  was  often  draw 
ing  conclusions  while  the  other  was  engaged  with  the 
no  less  important  function  of  discovery. 

His  companion  was  young  Jack  Irons — a  big  lad  of 
seventeen,  who  lived  in  a  fertile  valley  some  fifty  miles 
northwest  of  Fort  Stanwix,  in  Tryon  County,  New 
York.  Now,  in  September,  1768,  they  were  traveling 
ahead  of  a  band  of  Indians  bent  on  mischief.  The 
latter,  a  few  days  before,  had  come  down  Lake  Ontario 
and  were  out  in  the  bush  somewhere  between  the  lake 
and  the  new  settlement  in  Horse  Valley.  Solomon 
thought  that  they  were  probably  Hurons,  since  they, 
being  discontented  with  the  treaty  made  by  the  French, 
had  again  taken  the  war-path.  This  invasion,  how- 
ever, was  a  wholly  unexpected  bit  of  audacity.  They 
had  two  captives — the  wife  and  daughter  of  Colonel 
Hare,  who  had  been  spending  a  few  weeks  with  Major 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE       5 

Duncan  and  his  Fifty-Fifth  Regiment,  at  Oswego. 
The  colonel  had  taken  these  ladies  of  his  family  on  a 
hunting  trip  in  the  bush.  They  had  had  two  guides 
with  them,  one  of  whom  was  Solomon  Binkus.  The 
men  had  gone  out  in  the  early  evening  after  moose 
and  imprudently  left  the  ladies  in  camp,  where  the  lat- 
ter had  been  captured.  Having  returned,  the  scout 
knew  that  the  only  possible  explanation  for  the  absence 
of  the  ladies  was  Indians,  although  no  peril  could  have 
been  more  unexpected.  He  had  discovered  by  "the 
sign"  that  it  was  a  large  band  traveling  eastward.  He 
had  set  out  by  night  to  get  ahead  of  them  while  Hare 
and  his  other  guide  started  for  the  fort.  Binkus  knew 
every  mile  of  the  wilderness  and  had  canoes  hidden 
near  its  bigger  waters.  He  had  crossed  the  lake,  on 
which  his  party  had  been  camping,  and  the  swamp  at 
the  east  end  of  it  and  was  soon  far  ahead  of  the  ma- 
rauders. A  little  after  daylight,  he  had  picked  up  the 
boy,  Jack  Irons,  at  a  hunting  camp  on  Big  Deer  Creek, 
as  it  was  then  called,  and  the  two  had  set  out  together 
to  warn  the  people  in  Horse  Valley,  where  Jack  lived, 
and  to  get  help  for  a  battle  with  the  savages. 

It  will  be  seen  by  his  words  that  Mr.  Binkus  was  a 
man  of  imagination,  but — again  he  is  talking. 

"I  were  on  my  way  to  a  big  Injun  Pow-wow  at 
Swegache  fer  Sir  Bill — ayes  it  were  in  Feb'uary,  the 
time  o'  the  great  moon  o'  the  hard  snow.  Now  they 
be  some  good  things  'bout  Injuns  but,  like  young  brats, 
they  take  nat'ral  to  deviltry.  Ye  may  have  my  hide  fer 


6        IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

sole  luther  if  ye  ketch  me  in  an  Injun  village  with  a 
load  o'  fire-water.  Some  Injuns  is  smart,  an'  gol  ding 
their  pictur's!  they  kin  talk  like  a  cat-bird.  A  skunk 
has  a  han'some  coat  an'  acts  as  cute  as  a  kitten  but  all 
the  same,  which  thar  ain't  no  doubt  o'  it,  his  friendship 
ain't  wuth  a  dam.  It's  a  kind  o'  p'ison.  Injuns  is  like 
skunks,  if  ye  trust  'em  they'll  sp'ile  ye.  They  eat  like 
beasts  an'  think  like  beasts,  an'  live  like  beasts,  an' 
talk  like  angels.  Pajnt  an'  bear's  grease,  an'  squaw- 
fun,  an'  fur,  an'  wampum,  an'  meat,  an'  rum,  is  all  they 
think  on.  I've  et  their  vittles  many  a  time  an'  I'm 
obleeged  to  tell  ye  it's  hard  work.  Too  much  hair  in 
the  stew!  They  stick  their  paws  in  the  pot  an'  grab 
out  a  chunk  an'  chaw  it  an'  bolt  it,  like  a  dog,  an'  wipe 
their  hands  on  their  long  hair.  They  brag  'bout  the 
power  o'  their  jaws,  which  I  ain't  denyin'  is  con- 
sid'able,  havin'  had  an  ol'  buck  bite  off  the  top  o'  my 
left  ear  when  I  were  tied  fast  to  a  tree  which — you  hear 
to  me — is  a  good  time  to  learn  Injun  language  'cause 
ye  pay  'tention  clost.  They  ain't  got  no  heart  er  no 
mercy.  How  they  kin  grind  up  a  captive,  like  wheat 
in  the  millstuns,  an'  laugh,  an'  whoop  at  the  sight  o' 
his  blood!  Er  turn  him  into  smoke  an'  ashes  while 
they  look  on  an'  laugh — by  mighty! — like  he  were 
singin'  a  funny  song.  They'd  be  men  an'  women  only 
they  ain't  got  the  works  in  'em.  Suthin'  missin'.  By 
the  hide  an'  horns  o'  the  devil !  I  ain't  got  no  kind  o' 
patience  with  them  mush  hearts  who  say  that  Ameriky 
belongs  to  the  noble  red  man  an'  that  the  whites  have 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE       7 

no  right  to  bargain  fer  his  land.  Gol  ding  their  pictures ! 
Ye  might  as  well  say  that  we  hain't  no  right  in  the 
woods  'cause  a  lot  o'  bears  an'  painters  got  there  fust, 
which  I  ain't  a-sayin'  but  what  bears  an'  painters  '  -'s 
their  rights." 

Mr.  Binkus  paused  again  to  put  another  coal  on  his 
pipe.  Then  he  listened  a  moment  and  looked  up  at 
the  rocks  above  their  heads,  for  they  were  camped  ;n 
a  cave  at  the  mouth  of  which  they  had  built  a  smnll 
fire,  in  a  deep  gorge.  Presently  he  went  on : 

"I  found  a  heap  o'  Injuns  at  Swegache — Mohawks, 
Senekys,  Onandogs  an'  Algonks.  They  had  bee^ 
swappin'  presents  an'  speeches  with  the  French.  Just 
a  little  while  afore  they  had  had  a  bellerin'  match  with 
us  'bout  love  an'  friendship.  Then  sudden-like  they 
tuk  it  in  their  heads  that  the  French  had  a  sharper 
hatchet  than  the  English.  I  were  skeered,  but  when  I 
see  that  they  was  nobody  drunk,  I  pushed  right  into  the 
big  village  an'  asked  fer  the  old  Senecky  chief  Bear 
Face — knowin'  he  were  thar — an'  said  I  had  a  letter 
from  the  Big  Father.  They  tuk  me  to  him. 

"I  give  him  a  chain  o'  wampum  an'  then  read  the 
letter  from  Sir  Bill.  It  offered  the  Six  Nations  more 
land  an'  a  fort,  an'  a  regiment  to  defend  'em.  Then 
he  give  me  a  lot  o'  hedge-hog  quills  sewed  on  to  buck- 
skin an'  says  he : 

;  'You  are  like  a  lone  star  in  the  night,  my  brother. 
We  have  stretched  out  our  necks  lookin'  fer  ye.  We 
thought  the  Big  Father  had  forgot  us.  Now  we  are 


8        IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

happy.  To-morrer  our  faces  will  turn  south  an'  shine 
with  bear's  grease.' 

"Sez  I :  'You  must  wash  no  more  in  the  same  water 
with  the  French.  You  must  return  to  The  Long 
House.  The  Big  Father  will  throw  his  great  arm 
eround  you.' 

"I  strutted  up  an'  down,  like  a  turkey  gobbler,  an' 
bellered  out  a  lot  o'  that  high-falutin'  gab.  I  reckon  I 
know  how  to  shove  an  idee  under  their  hides.  Ye  got 
to  raise  yer  voice  an'  look  solemn  an'  point  at  the  stars. 
A  powerful  lot  o'  Injuns  trailed  back  to  Sir  Bill,  but 
they  was  a  few  went  over  to  the  French.  I  kind  o' 
mistrust  thar's  some  o'  them  runnygades  behind  us. 
They're  'spectin'  to  git  a  lot  o'  plunder  an'  a  horse 
apiece  an'  ride  'em  back  an'  swim  the  river  at  the  place 
o'  the  many  islands.  We'll  poke  down  to  the  trail  on 
the  edge  o'  the  drownded  lands  afore  sunrise  an'  I  kind 
o'  mistrust  we'll  see  sign/' 

Jack  Irons  was  a  son  of  the  much  respected  John 
Irons  from  New  Hampshire  who,  in  the  fertile  valley 
where  he  had  settled  some  years  before,  was  breeding 
horses  for  the  army  and  sending  them  down  to  Sir 
William  Johnson.  Hence  the  site  of  his  farm  had  been 
called  Horse  Valley. 

Mr.  Binkus  went  to  the  near  brook  and  repeatedly 
filled  his  old  felt  hat  with  water  and  poured  it  on  the 
fire.  "Don't  never  keep  no  fire  a-goin'  a'ter  I'm  dried 
out,"  he  whispered,  as  he  stepped  back  into  the  dark 
cave,  "  'cause  ye  never  kin  tell." 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE      9 

The  boy  was  asleep  on  the  bed  of  boughs.  Mr. 
Binkus  covered  him  with  the  blanket  and  lay  down 
beside  him  and  drew  his  coat  over  both. 

"He'll  learn  that  it  ain't  no  fun  to  be  a  scout,"  he 
whispered  with  a  yawn  and  in  a  moment  was  snoring. 

It  was  black  dark  when  he  roused  his  companion. 
Solomon  had  been  up  for  ten  minutes  and  had  got 
their  rations  of  bread  and  dried  venison  out  of  his  pack 
and  brought  a  canteen  of  fresh  water. 

"The  night  has  been  dark.  A  piece  o'  charcoal 
would  'a'  made  a  white  mark  on  it,"  said  Solomon. 

"How  do  you  know  it's  morning?"  the  boy  asked 
as  he  rose,  yawning. 

"Don't  ye  hear  that  leetle  bird  up  in  the  tree-top?" 
Solomon  answered  in  a  whisper.  "He  says  it's  mornin' 
jest  as  plain  as  a  clock  in  a  steeple  an'  that  it's  goin' 
to  be  cl'ar.  If  you'll  shove  this  'ere  meat  an'  bread 
into  yer  stummick,  we'll  begin  fer  to  make  tracks." 

They  ate  in  silence  and  as  he  ate  Solomon  was  get- 
ting his  pack  ready  and  strapping  it  on  his  back  and 
adjusting  his  powder-horn. 

"Ye  see  it's  growin'  light,"  he  remarked  presently 
in  a  whisper.  "Keep  clost  to  me  an'  go  as  still  as  ye 
kin  an'  don't  speak  out  loud  never — not  if  ye  want  to 
be  sure  to  keep  yer  ha'r  on  yer  head." 

They  started  down  the  foot  of  the  gorge  then  dim  in 
the  night  shadows.  Binkus  stopped,  now  and  then,  to 
listen  for  two  or  three  seconds  and  went  on  with  long 
stealthy  strides.  His  movements  were  panther-like, 


io      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

and  the  boy  imitated  them.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome 
big-framed  lad  with  blond  hair  and  blue  eyes.  They 
could  soon  see  their  way  clearly.  At  the  edge  of  the 
valley  the  scout  stopped  and  peered  out  upon  it.  A 
deep  mist  lay  on  the  meadows. 

"I  like  day-dark  in  Injun  country,"  he  whispered. 
"Come  on." 

They  hurried  through  sloppy  footing  in  the  wet 
grass  that  flung  its  dew  into  their  garments  from  the 
shoulder  down.  Suddenly  Mr.  Binkus  stopped.  They 
could  hear  the  sound  of  heavy  feet  splashing  in  the 
wet  meadow. 

"Scairt  moose,  runnin'  this  way!"  the  scout  whis- 
pered. "I'll  bet  ye  a  pint  o'  powder  an'  a  fish  hook 
them  Injuns  is  over  east  o'  here." 

It  was  his  favorite  wager — that  of  a  pint  of  powder 
and  a  fish  hook. 

They  came  out  upon  high  ground  and  reached  the 
valley  trail  just  as  the  sun  was  rising.  The  fog  had 
lifted.  Mr.  Binkus  stopped  well  away  from  the  trail 
and  listened  for  some  minutes.  He  approached  it 
slowly  on  his  tiptoes,  the  boy  following  in  a  like  man- 
ner. For  a  moment  the  scout  stood  at  the  edge  of  the 
trail  in  silence.  Then,  leaning  low,  he  examined  it 
closely  and  quickly  raised  his  hand. 

"Hoofs  o'  the  devil!"  he  whispered  as  he  beckoned 
to  the  boy.  "See  thar,"  he  went  on,  pointing  to  the 
ground.  "They've  jest  gone  by.  The  grass  ain't  riz 
yit.  Wait  here." 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     11 

He  followed  the  trail  a  few  rods  with  eyes  bent  upon 
it.  Near  a  little  run  where  there  was  soft  dirt,  he 
stopped  again  and  looked  intently  at  the  earth  and  then 
hurried  back. 

"It's  a  big  band.  At  least  forty  Injuns  in  it  an' 
some  captives,  an'  the  devil  an'  Tom  Walker.  It's  a 
mess  which  they  ain't  no  mistake." 

"I  don't  see  why  they  want  to  be  bothered  with 
women,"  the  boy  remarked. 

"Hostiges!"  Solomon  exclaimed.  "Makes  'em  feel 
safer.  Grab  'em  when  they  kin.  If  overtook  by  a 
stouter  force  they're  in  shape  fer  a  dicker.  The  chief 
stands  up  an'  sings  like  a  bird — 'bout  the  moon  an'  the 
stars  an'  the  brooks  an'  the  rivers  an'  the  wrongs  o' 
the  red  man,  but  it  wouldn't  be  wuth  the  song  o'  a 
barn  swaller  less  he  can  show  ye  that  the  wimmen  are 
all  right.  If  they've  been  treated  proper,  it's  the  same 
as  proved.  Ye  let  'em  out  o'  the  bear  trap  which  it  has 
often  happened.  But  you  hear  to  me,  when  they  go 
off  this  way  it's  to  kill  an'  grab  an'  hustle  back  with 
the  booty.  They  won't  stop  at  butcherin' !" 

"I'm  afraid  my  folks  are  in  danger,"  said  the  boy  as 
he  changed  color. 

"Er  mebbe  Peter  Boneses' — 'cordin'  to  the  way  they 
go.  We  got  to  cut  eround  'em  an'  plow  straight 
through  the  bush  an'  over  Cobble  Hill  an'  swim  the 
big  creek  an'  we'll  beat  'em  easy." 

It  was  a  curious,  long,  loose  stride,  the  knees  never 
quite  straightened,  with  which  the  scout  made  his  way 


12      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

through  the  forest.  It  covered  ground  so  swiftly  that 
the  boy  had,  now  and  then,  to  break  into  a  dog-trot  in 
order  to  keep  along  with  the  old  woodsman.  They 
kept  their  pace  up  the  steep  side  of  Cobble  Hill  and 
down  its  far  slope  and  the  valley  beyond  to  the  shore 
of  the  Big  Creek. 

"I'm  hot  'nough  to  sizzle  an'  smoke  when  I  tech 
w^ter,"  said  the  scout  as  he  waded  in,  holding  his  rifle 
and  powder-horn  in  his  left  hand  above  the  creek's 
surface. 

They  had  a  few  strokes  of  swimming  at  mid-stream 
but  managed  to  keep  their  powder  dry. 

"Now  we've  got  jest  'nough  hoppin'  to  keep  us  from 
gittin'  foundered,"  said  Solomon,  as  he  stood  on  the 
farther  shore  and  adjusted  his  pack.  "It  ain't  more'n 
a  mile  to  your  house." 

They  hurried  on,  reaching  the  rough  valley  road  in 
a  few  minutes. 

"Now  I'll  take  the  bee  trail  to  your  place,"  said  the 
scout.  "You  cut  ercrost  the  medder  to  Peter  Boneses' 
an'  fetch  'em  over  with  all  their  grit  an'  guns  an'  am- 
munition." 

Solomon  found  John  Irons  and  five  of  his  sons  and 
three  of  his  daughters  digging  potatoes  and  pulling 
tops  in  a  field  near  the  house.  The  sky  was  clear  and 
the  sun  shining  warm.  Solomon  called  Irons  aside 
and  told  him  of  the  approaching  Indians. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  Irons  asked. 

"Send  the  women  an'  the  babies  back  to  the  sugar 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     13 

shanty,"  said  Solomon.  "We'll  stay  here  'cause  if  we 
run  erway  the  Boneses'll  git  their  ha'r  lifted.  I 
reckon  we  kin  conquer  'em." 

"How?" 

"Shoot  'em  full  o'  meat.  They  must  'a'  traveled 
all  night.  Them  Injuns  is  tired  an'  hungry.  Been 
three  days  on  the  trail.  No  time  to  hunt !  I'll  hustle 
some  wood  together  an'  start  a  fire.  You  bring  a 
pair  o'  steers  right  here  handy.  We'll  rip  their  hides 
off  an'  git  the  reek  o'  vittles  in  the  air  soon  as  God'll 
let  us." 

"My  wife  can  use  a  gun  as  well  as  I  can  and  I'm 
afraid  she  won't  go,"  said  Irons. 

"All  right,  let  her  hide  somewhar  nigh  with  the 
guns,"  said  Solomon.  "The  oldest  gal  kin  go  back 
with  the  young  'uns.  Don't  want  no  skirts  in  sight 
when  they  git  here." 

Mrs.  Irons  hid  in  the  shed  with  the  loaded  guns. 

Ruth  Irons  and  the  children  set  out  for  the  sugar 
bush.  The  steers  were  quickly  led  up  and  slaughtered. 
As  a  hide  ripper,  Solomon  was  a  man  of  experience. 
The  loins  of  one  animal  were  cooking  on  turnspits  and 
a  big  pot  of  beef,  onions  and  potatoes  boiling  over  the 
fire  when  Jack  arrived  with  the  Bones  family. 

"It  smells  good  here,"  said  Jack. 

"Ayes !  The  air  be  gittin'  the  right  scent  on  it,"  said 
Solomon,  as  he  was  ripping  the  hide  off  the  other 
steer.  "I  reckon  it'll  start  the  sap  in  their  mouths.  You 
roll  out  the  rum  bar'l  an'  stave  it  in.  Mis'  Bones  knows 


14      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

how  to  shoot.  Put  her  in  the  shed  with  yer  mother  an' 
the  guns,  an'  take  her  young  'uns  to  the  sugar  shanty 
'cept  Isr'el  who's  big  'nough  to  help." 

A  little  later  Solomon  left  the  fire.  Both  his  eye 
and  his  ear  had  caught  "sign" — a  clamor  among  the 
moose  birds  in  the  distant  bush  and  a  flock  of  pigeons 
flying  from  the  west. 

" Don't  none  o'  ye  stir  till  I  come  back,"  he  said,  as 
he  turned  into  the  trail.  A  few  rods  away  he  lay  down 
with  his  ear  to  the  ground  and  could  distinctly  hear  the 
tramp  of  many  feet  approaching  in  the  distance.  He 
went  on  a  little  farther  and  presently  concealed  himself 
in  the  bushes  close  to  the  trail.  He  had  not  long  to 
wait,  for  soon  a  red  scout  came  on  ahead  of  the  party. 
He  was  a  young  Huron  brave,  his  face  painted  black 
and  yellow.  His  head  was  encircled  by  a  snake  skin. 
A  fox's  tail  rose  above  his  brow  and  dropped  back  on 
his  crown.  A  birch-bark  horn  hung  over  his  shoulder. 

Solomon  stepped  out  of  the  bushes  after  he  had 
passed  and  said  in  the  Huron  tongue :  "Welcome,  my 
red  brother,  I  hear  that  a  large  band  o'  yer  folks  is 
comin'  and  we  have  got  a  feast  ready." 

The  young  brave  had  been  startled  by  the  sudden 
appearance  of  Solomon,  but  the  friendly  words  had 
reassured  him. 

"We  are  on  a  long  journey,"  said  the  brave. 

"And  the  flesh  of  a  fat  ox  will  help  ye  on  yer  way. 
Kin  ye  smell  it?" 

"Brother,  it  is  like  the  smell  of  the  great  village  in 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE x  15 

the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds,"  said  the  brave.  "We 
have  traveled  three  sleeps  from  the  land  of  the  long 
waters  and  have  had  only  two  porcupines  and  a  small 
deer  to  eat.  We  are  hungry." 

"And  we  would  smoke  the  calumet  of  peace  with 
you,"  said  Solomon. 

They  walked  on  together  and  in  a  moment  came  in 
sight  of  the  little  farm-house.  The  brave  looked  at 
the  house  and  the  three  men  who  stood  by  the  fire. 

"Come  with  me  and  you  shall  see  that  we  are  few," 
Solomon  remarked. 

They  entered  the  house  and  barn  and  walked  around 
them,  and  this,  in  effect,  is  what  Solomon  said  to 
him: 

"I  am  the  chief  scout  of  the  Great  Father.  My  word 
is  like  that  of  old  Flame  Tongue— your  mighty  chief. 
You  and  your  people  are  on  a  bad  errand.  No  good 
can  come  of  it.  You  are  far  from  your  own  coun- 
try. A  large  force  is  now  on  your  trail.  If  you  rob 
or  kill  any  one  you  will  be  hung.  We  know  your 
plans.  A  bad  white  chief  has  brought  you  here.  He 
has  a  wooden  leg  with  an  iron  ring  around  the  bottom 
of  it.  He  come  down  lake  in  a  big  boat  with  you. 
Night  before  last  you  stole  two  white  women." 

A  look  of  fear  and  astonishment  came  upon  the  face 
of  the  Indian. 

"You  are  a  son  of  the  Great  Spirit!"  he  exclaimed. 

"And  I  would  keep  yer  feet  out  o'  the  snare.  Let 
me  be  yer  chief.  You  shall  have  a  horse  and  fifty 


1 6      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

beaver  skins  and  be  taken  to  the  border  and  set  free. 
I,  the  scout  of  the  Great  Father,  have  said  it,  and  if 
it  be  not  as  I  say,  may  I  never  see  the  Happy  Hunt- 
ing-Grcunds." 

The  brave  answered: 

"My  white  brother  has  spoken  well  and  he  shall  be 
my  chief.  I  like  not  this  journey.  I  shall  bid  them  to 
the  feast.  They  will  eat  and  sleep  like  the  gray  wolf 
for  they  are  hungry  and  their  feet  are  sore." 

The  brave  put  his  horn  to  his  mouth  and  uttered  a 
wild  cry  that  rang  in  the  distant  hills.  Then  arose  a 
great  whooping  and  kintecawing  back  in  the  bush. 
The  young  Huron  went  out  to  meet  the  band.  Return- 
ing soon,  he  said  to  Solomon  that  his  chief,  the  great 
Splitnose,  would  have  words  with  him. 

Turning  to  John  Irons,  Solomon  said:  "He's  an 
outlaw  chief.  We  must  treat  him  like  a  king.  ITi 
bring  'em  in.  You  keep  the  meat  a-sizzlin' !" 

The  scout  went  with  the  brave  to  his  chief  and  made 
a  speech  of  welcome,  after  which  the  wily  old  Split- 
nose,  in  his  wonderful  head-dress  of  buckskin  and 
eagle  feathers,  and  his  band  in  war-paint,  followed 
Solomon  to  the  feast.  Silently  they  filed  out  of  the 
bush  and  sat  on  the  grass  around  the  fire.  There 
were  no  captives  among  them — none  at  least  of  the 
white  skin. 

Solomon  did  not  betray  his  disappointment.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken.  He  and  John  Irons  and  his  son 
began  removing  the  spits  from  the  fire  and  putting; 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     17 

more  meat  upon  them  and  cutting  the  cooked  roasts 
into  large  pieces  and  passing  it  on  a  big  earthen  platter. 
The  Indians  eagerly  seized  the  hot  meat  and  began  to 
devour  it.  While  waiting  to  be  served,  some  of  the 
young  braves  danced  at  the  fire's  edge  with  short,  ex- 
plosive, yelping,  barking  cries  answered  by  dozens  of 
guttural  protesting  grunts  from  the  older  men,  who  sat 
eating  or  eagerly  waiting  their  turn  to  grab  meat.  It 
was  a  trying  moment.  Would  the  whole  band  leap  up 
and  start  a  dance  which  might  end  in  boiling  blood 
and  tiger  fury  and  a  massacre  ?  But  the  young  Huron 
brave  stopped  them,  aided  no  doubt  by  the  smell  of 
the  cooking  flesh  and  the  protest  of  the  older  men. 
There  would  be  no  war-dance — at  least  not  yet — too 
much  hunger  in  the  band  and  the  means  of  satisfying 
it  were  too  close  and  tempting.  Solomon  had  foreseen 
the  peril  and  his  cunning  had  prevented  it. 

In  a  letter  he  has  thus  described  the  incident :  "It 
were  a  band  o'  cutthroat  robbers  an'  runnygades  from 
the  Ohio  country — Hurons,  Algonks  an'  Mingos  an* 
all  kinds  o'  cast  off  red  rubbish  with  an  old  Algonk 
chief  o'  the  name  o'  Splitnose.  They  stuffed  their 
hides  with  the  meat  till  they  was  stiff  as  a  foundered 
hoss.  They  grabbed  an'  chawed  an'  bolted  it  like  so 
many  hogs  an*  reached  out  fer  more,  which  is  the  dif- 
fer'nce  betwixt  an  Injun  an'  a  white  man.  The  white 
man  gen'ally  knows  'nough  to  shove  down  the  brakes 
on  a  side-hill.  The  Injun  ain't  got  no  brakes  on  his 
wheels.  Injuns  is  a  good  deal  like  white  brats.  Let  'em 


i8      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

find  the  sugar  tub  when  their  ma  is  to  meetin'  an'  they 
won't  worry  'bout  the  bellyache  till  it  comes.  Them 
Injuns  filled  themselves  to  the  gullet  an'  begun  to  lay 
back,  all  swelled  up,  an'  roll  an'  grunt  an'  go  to  sleep. 
By  an'  by  they  was  only  two  that  was  up  an'  pawin' 
eround  in  the  stew  pot  fer  'nother  bone,  lookin'  kind 
o'  unsart'in  an'  jaw  weary.  In  a  minute  they  wiped 
their  hands  on  their  ha'r  an'  lay  back  fer  rest.  They 
was  drunk  with  the  meat,  as  drunk  as  a  Chinee  a'ter  a 
pipe  o'  opium.  We  white  men  stretched  out  with  the 
rest  on  'em  till  we  see  they  was  all  in  the  land  o'  nod. 
Then  we  riz  an'  set  up  a  hussle.  Hones'  we  could  'a' 
killed  'em  with  a  hammer  an'  done  it  delib'rit.  I  started 
to  pull  the  young  Huron  out  o'  the  bunch.  He  jumped 
up  very  supple.  He  wasn't  asleep.  He  had  knowed 
better  than  to  swaller  a  yard  o'  meat. 

"Whar  was  the  wimmen?  I  knowed  that  a  part  o' 
the  band  would  be  back  in  the  bush  with  them  'ere 
wimmen.  I'd  seed  suthin'  in  the  trail  over  by  the 
drownded  lands  that  looked  kind  o'  neevarious.  It 
were  like  the  end  o'  a  wooden  leg  with  an  iron  ring  at 
the  bottom  an'  consid'able  weight  on  it.  An  Injun 
wouldn't  have  a  wooden  leg,  least  ways  not  one  with 
an  iron  ring  at  the  butt.  My  ol'  thinker  had  been 
chawin'  that  cud  all  day  an'  o'  a  sudden  it  come  to  me 
that  a  white  man  were  runnin'  the  hull  crew.  That's 
how  I  had  gained  ground  with  the  red  scout.  I  took 
him  out  in  the  aidge  o'  the  bush  an'  sez  I : 

"  What's  yer  name?' 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     19 

"  'Buckeye,'  sez  he. 

"  'Who's  the  white  man  that's  with  ye?' 

"  'Mike  Harpe.' 

"  'Are  the  white  wimmin  with  him?' 

"  'Yes.' 

"  'How  many  Injuns?' 

"  'Two.' 

"  'What's  yer  signal  o'  victory?' 

"  'The  call  o'  the  moose.' 

"  'Now,  Buckeye,  you  come  with  us,'  I  sez. 

"I  knowed  that  the  white  man  were  runnin'  the  hull 
party  an'  I  itched  to  git  holt  o'  him.  Gol  ding  his  pic- 
tur' !  He'd  sent  the  Injuns  on  ahead  fer  to  do  his  dirty 
work.  The  Ohio  country  were  full  o'  robber  whelps 
which  I  kind  o'  mistrusted  he  were  one  on  'em  who  had 
raked  up  this  'ere  band  o'  runnygades  an'  gone  off  fer 
plunder.  We  got  holt  o'  most  o'  their  guns  very  quiet, 
an'  I  put  John  Irons  an'  two  o'  his  boys  an'  Peter 
Bones  an'  his  boy  Isr'el  an'  the  two  women  with  loaded 
guns  on  guard  over  'em.  If  any  on  'em  woke  up  they 
was  to  ride  the  nightmare  er  lay  still.  Jack  an'  me  an' 
Buckeye  sneaked  back  up  the  trail  fer  'bout  twenty  rod 
with  our  guns,  an'  then  I  told  the  young  Injun  to  shoot 
off  the  moose  call.  Wall,  sir,  ye  could  'a'  heerd  it 
from  Albany  to  Wing's  Falls.  The  answer  come  an' 
jest  as  I  'spected,  'twere  within  a  quarter  o'  a  mile.  I 
put  Jack  erbout  fifty  feet  further  up  the  trail  than  I 
were,  an'  Buckeye  nigh  him,  an'  tol  'em  what  to  do. 
We  skootched  down  in  the  bushes  an'  heerd  'em 


20      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

comin' !  Purty  soon  they  hove  in  sight — two  Injuns, 
the  two  wimmin  captives  an'  a  white  man — the  wust- 
lookin'  bulldog  brute  that  I  ever  seen — stumpin'  erlong 
lively  on  a  wooden  leg,  with  a  gun  an'  a  cane.  He  had 
a  broad  head  an'  a  big  lop  mouth  an'  thick  lips  an'  a 
long,  red,  warty  nose  an'  small  black  eyes  an'  a  growth 
o'  beard  that  looked  like  hog's  bristles.  He  were  stout 
built.  Stood  'bout  five  foot  seven.  Never  see  sech  a 
sight  in  my  life.  I  hopped  out  afore  'em  an'  Jack  an' 
Buckeye  on  their  heels.  The  Injun  had  my  ol'  hanger. 

"  'Drop  yer  guns,'  says  I. 

"The  white  man  done  as  he  were  told.  I  spoke  Eng- 
lish an'  mebbe  them  two  Injuns  didn't  understan'  me. 
We'll  never  know.  Ol'  Red  Snout  leaned  over  to  pick 
up  his  gun,  seem'  as  we'd  fired  ours.  There  was  a  price 
on  his  head  an'  he'd  made  up  his  mind  to  fight.  Jack 
grabbed  him.  He  were  stout  as  a  lion  an'  tore  'way 
from  the  boy  an*  started  to  pullin'  a  long  knife  out  o' 
his  boot  leg.  Jack  didn't  give  him  time.  They  had  it 
hammer  an'  tongs.  Red  Snout  were  a  reg'lar  fightin' 
man.  He  jest  stuck  that  'ere  stump  in  the  ground  an' 
braced  ag'in'  it  an'  kep'  a-slashin'  an'  jabbin'  with  his 
club  cane  an'  yellin'  an'  cussin'  like  a  fiend  o'  hell.  He 
knocked  the  boy  down  an'  I  reckon  he'd  'a'  mellered 
his  head  proper  if  he'd  'a'  been  spryer  on  his  pins.  But 
Jack  sprung  up  like  he  were  made  o'  Injy  rubber.  The 
bulldog  devil  had  drawed  his  long  knife.  Jack  were 
smart.  He  hopped  behind  a  tree.  Buckeye,  who  hadn't 
no  gun,  was  jumpin'  fer  cover.  The  peg-leg  cuss 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     21 

swore  a  blue  streak  an'  flung  the  knife  at  him.  It  went 
cl'ar  through  his  body  an'  he  fell  on  his  face  an'  me 
standin'  thar  loadih'  my  gun.  I  didn't  know  but  he'd 
lick  us  all.  But  Jack  had  jumped  on  him  'fore  he  got 
holt  o'  the  knife  ag'in. 

"I  thought  sure  he'd  floor  the  boy  an'  me  not  quite 
loaded,  but  Jack  were  as  spry  as  a  rat  terrier.  He 
dodged  an'  rushed  in  an'  grabbed  holt  o'  the  club  an' 
fetched  the  cuss  a  whack  in  the  paunch  with  his  bare 
fist,  an'  ol'  Red  Snout  went  down  like  a  steer  under  the 
ax. 

"  'Look  out !  there's  'nother  man  comin','  the  young 
womern  hollered. 

"She  needn't  'a'  tuk  the  trouble  'cause  afore  she 
spoke  I  were  lookin'  at  him  through  the  sight  o'  my 
ol'  Marier  which  I'd  managed  to  git  it  loaded  ag'in. 
He  were  runnin'  towards  me.  He  tuk  jest  one  more 
step,  if  I  don't  make  no  mistake. 

"The  ol'  brute  that  Jack  had  knocked  down  quivered 
an'  lay  still  a  minit  an'  when  he  come  to,  we  turned 
him  eround  an'  started  him  towards  Canady  an'  tol' 
him  to  keep  a-goin' !  When  he  were  'bout  ten  rods  off, 
I  put  a  bullet  in  his  ol'  wooden  leg  fer  to  hurry  him 
erlong.  So  the  wust  man-killer  that  ever  trod  dirt  got 
erway  from  us  with  only  a  sore  belly,  we  never  knowin' 
who  he  were.  I  wish  I'd  'a'  killed  the  cuss,  but  as 
'twere,  we  had  consid'able  trouble  on  our  hands.  Right 
erway  we  heard  two  guns  go  off  over  by  the  house.  I 
knowed  that  our  firm'  had  prob'ly  woke  up  some  o'  the 


22       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

sleepers.  We  pounded  the  ground  an'  got  thar  as  quick 
as  we  could.  The  two  wimmen  wa'n't  fur  behind. 
They  didn't  cocalate  to  lose  us — you  hear  to  me.  Two 
young  braves  had  sprung  up  an'  been  told  to  lie  down 
ag'in.  But  the  English  language  ain't  no  help  to  an 
Injun  under  them  surcumstances.  They  don't  under- 
stan'  it  an'  thar  ain't  no  time  when  ignerunce  is  more 
costly.  They  was  some  others  awake,  but  they  had 
learnt  suthin'.  They  was  keepin'  quiet,  an'  I  sez  to 
'em: 

"  'If  ye  lay  still  ye'll  all  be  safe.  We  won't  do  ye  a 
bit  o'  harm.  You've  got  in  bad  comp'ny,  but  ye  ain't 
done  nothin'  but  steal  a  pair  o'  wimmen.  If  ye  behave 
proper  from  now  on,  ye'll  be  sent  hum.' 

"We  didn't  have  no  more  trouble  with  them.  I  put 
one  o'  Boneses'  boys  on  a  hoss  an*  hustled  him  up  the 
valley  fer  help.  The  wimmen  captives  was  bawlin'.  I 
tol*  'em  to  straighten  out  their  faces  an'  go  with  Jack 
an'  his  father  down  to  Fort  Stanwix.  They  were  kind 
o'  leg  weary  an'  excited,  but  they  hadn't  been  hurt  yit. 
Another  day  er  two  would  'a'  fixed  'em.  Jack  an'  his 
father  an'  mother  tuk  'em  back  to  the  pastur',  an'  Jack 
run  up  to  the  barn  fer  ropes  an*  bridles.  In  a  little 
while  they  got  some  hoofs  under  'em  an'  picked  up  the 
childern  an'  toddled  off.  I  went  out  in  the  bush  to 
find  Buckeye  an'  he  were  dead  as  the  whale  that  s wal- 
ler ed  Jonah." 

So  ends  the  letter  of  Solomon  Binkus. 

Jack  Irons  and  his  family  and  that  of  Peter  Bones — 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY   ADVENTURE     23 

the  boys  and  girls  riding  two  on  a  horse — with  the  cap- 
tives filed  down  the  Mohawk  trail.  It  was  a  consider- 
able cavalcade  of  twenty-one  people  and  twenty-four 
horses  and  colts,  the  latter  following. 

Solomon  Binkus  and  Peter  Bones  and  his  son  Israel 
stood  on  guard  until  the  boy  John  Bones  returned  with 
help  from  the  upper  valley.  A  dozen  men  and  boys 
completed  the  disarming  of  the  band  and  that  evening 
set  out  with  them  on  the  south  trail. 

2 

It  is  doubtful  if  this  history  would  have  been  writ- 
ten but  for  an  accidental  and  highly  interesting  circum- 
stance. In  the  first  party  young  Jack  Irons  rode  a 
colt,  just  broken,  with  the  girl  captive,  now  happily 
released.  The  boy  had  helped  every  one  to  get  away ; 
then  there  seemed  to  be  no  ridable  horse  for  him.  He 
walked  for  a  distance  by  the  stranger's  mount  as  the 
latter  was  wild.  The  girl  was  silent  for  a  time  after 
the  colt  had  settled  down,  now  and  then  wiping  tears 
from  her  eyes.  By  and  by  she  asked : 

"May  I  lead  the  colt  while  you  ride?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  not  tired,"  was  his  answer. 

"I  want  to  do  something  for  you." 

"Why?" 

"I  am  so  grateful.  I  feel  like  the  King's  cat.  I  am 
trying  to  express  my  feelings.  I  think  I  know,  now, 
why  the  Indian  women  do  the  drudgery." 

As  she  looked  at  him  her  dark  eyes  were  very  seri- 
ous. 


24      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  have  done  little,"  said  he.  "It  is  Mr.  Binkus  who 
rescued  you.  We  live  in  a  wild  country  among  sav- 
ages and  the  white  folks  have  to  protect  each  other. 
We're  used  to  it." 

"I  never  saw  or  expected  to  see  men  like  you,"  she 
went  on.  "I  have  read  of  them  in  books,  but  I  never 
hoped  to  see  them  and  talk  to  them.  You  are  like 
Ajax  and  Achilles." 

"Then  I  shall  say  that  you  are  like  the  fair  lady  for 
whom  they  fought." 

"I  will  not  ride  and  see  you  walking." 

"Then  sit  forward  as  far  as  you  can  and  I  will  ride 
with  you,"  he  answered. 

In  a  moment  he  was  on  the  colt's  back  behind  her. 
She  was  a  comely  maiden.  An  authority  no  less  re- 
spectable than  Major  Duncan  has  written  that  she  was 
a  tall,  well  shaped,  fun  loving  girl  a  little  past  sixteen 
and  good  to  look  upon,  "with  dark  eyes  and  auburn 
hair,  the  latter  long  and  heavy  and-  in  the  sunlight 
richly  colored";  that  she  had  slender  fingers  and  a 
beautiful  skin,  all  showing  that  she  had  been  delicately 
bred.  He  adds  that  he  envied  the  boy  who  had  ridden 
before  and  behind  her  half  the  length  of  Tryon 
County. 

It  was  a  close  association  and  Jack  found  it  so  agree- 
able that  he  often  referred  to  that  ride  as  the  most  ex- 
citing adventure  of  his  life. 

"What  is  your  name?"  he  asked. 

"Margaret  Hare,"  she  answered. 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     25 

"How  did  they  catch  you  ?" 

"Oh,  they  came  suddenly  and  stealthily,  as  they  do 
in  the  story  books,  when  we  were  alone  in  camp.  My 
father  and  the  guides  had  gone  out  to  hunt." 

"Did  they  treat  you  well  ?" 

"The  Indians  let  us  alone,  but  the  two  white  men 
annoyed  and  frightened  us.  The  old  chief  kept  us 
near  him*." 

"The  old  chief  knew  better  than  to  let  any  harm 
come  to  you  until  they  were  sure  of  getting  away  with 
their  plunder." 

"We  were  in  the  valley  of  death  and  you  have  led 
us  out  of  it.  I  am  sure  that  I  do  not  look  as  if  I  were 
worth  saving.  I  suppose  that  I  must  have  turned  into 
an  old  woman.  Is  my  hair  white?" 

"No.  You  are  the  best-looking  girl  I  ever  saw,^'  he 
declared  with  rustic  frankness. 

"I  never  had  a  compliment  that  pleased  me  so 
much,"  she  answered,  as  her  elbows  tightened  a  little 
on  his  hands  which  were  clinging  to  her  coat.  "I  al- 
most loved  you  for  what  you  did  to  the  old  villain.  I 
saw  blood  on  the  side  of  your  head.  I  fear  he  hurt 
you?" 

"He  jabbed  me  once.    It  is  nothing." 

"How  brave  you  were!" 

"I  think  I  am  more  scared  now  than  I  was  then," 
said  Jack. 

"Scared!    Why?" 

"I  am  not  used  to  girls  except  my  sisters." 


26      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

She  laughed  and  answered : 

"And  I  am  not  used  to  heroes.  I  am  sure  you  can 
not  be  so  scared  as  I  am,  but  I  rather  enjoy  it.  I  like 
to  be  scared — a  little.  This  is  so  different." 

"I  like  you,"  he  declared  with  a  laugh. 

"I  feared  you  would  not  like  an  English  girl.  So 
many  North  Americans  hate  England." 

'The  English  have  been  hard  on  us." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"They  send  us  governors  whom  we  do  not  like ;  they 
make  laws  for  us  which  we  have  to  obey ;  they  impose 
hard  taxes  which  are  not  just  and  they  will  not  let  us 
have  a  word  to  say  about  it." 

"I  think  it  is  wrong  and  I'm  going  to  stand  up  for 
you,"  the  girl  answered. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  he  asked. 

"In  London.  I  am  an  English  girl,  but  please  do 
not  hate  me  for  that.  I  want  to  do  what  is  right  and  I 
shall  never  let  any  one  say  a  word  against  Americans 
without  taking  their  part." 

"That's  good,"  the  boy  answered.  "I'd  love  to  go 
to  London." 

"Well,  why  don't  you?" 

"It's  a  long  way  off." 

"Do  you  like  good-looking  girls?" 

"I'd  rather  look  at  them  than  eat." 

"Well,  there  are  many  in  London." 

"One  is  enough,"  said  Jack. 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     27 

"I'd  love  to  show  them  a  real  hero." 

"Don't  call  me  that.  If  you  would  just  call  me  Jack 
Irons  I'd  like  it  better.  But  first  you'll  want  to  know 
how  I  behave.  I  am  not  a  fighter." 

"I  am  sure  that  your  character  is  as  good  as  your 
face." 

"Gosh !  I  hope  it  ain't  quite  so  dark  colored,"  said 
Jack. 

"I  knew  all  about  you  when  you  took  my  hand  and 
helped  me  on  the  pony — or  nearly  all.  You  are  a  gen- 
tleman." 

"I  hope  so." 

"Are  you 'a  Presbyterian?" 

"No— Church  of  England." 

"I  was  sure  of  that.  I  have  seen  Indians  and 
Shakers,  but  I  have  never  seen  a  Presbyterian." 

When  the  sun  was  low  and  the  company  ahead  were 
stopping  to  make  a  camp  for  the  night,  the  boy  and 
girl  dismounted.  She  turned  facing  him  and  asked : 

"You  didn't  mean  it  when  you  said  that  I  was  good- 
looking — did  you?" 

The  bashful  youth  had  imagination  and,  like  many 
lads  of  his  time,  a  romantic  temperament  and  the  love 
of  poetry.  There  were  many  books  in  his  father's 
home  and  the  boy  had  lived  his  leisure  in  them.  He 
thought  a  moment  and  answered : 

"Yes,  I  think  you  are  as  beautiful  as  a  young  doe 
playing  in  the  water-lilies." 


28       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"And  you  look  as  if  you  believed  yourself,"  said 
she.  "I  am  sure  you  would  like  me  better  if  I  were 
fixed  up  a  little." 

"I  do  not  think  so." 

"How  much  better  a  boy's  head  looks  with  his  hair 
cut  close  like  yours.  Our  boys  have  long  hair.  They 
do  not  look  so  much  like — men." 

"Long  hair  is  not  for  rough  work  in  the  bush,"  the 
boy  remarked. 

"You  really  look  brave  and  strong.  One  would 
know  that  you  could  do  things." 

"I've  always  had  to  do  things." 

They  came  up  to  the  party  who  had  stopped  to 
camp  for  the  night.  It  was  a  clear  warm  evening. 
After  they  had  hobbled  the  horses  in  a  near  meadow 
fiat,  Jack  and  his  father  made  a  lean-to  for  the 
women  and  children  and  roofed  it  with  bark.  Then 
they  cut  wood  and  built  a  fire  and  gathered  boughs  for 
bedding.  Later,  tea  was  made  and  beefsteaks  and 
bacon  grilled  on  spits  of  green  birch, 'the  dripping  fat 
being  caught  on  slices  of  toasting  bread  whereon  the 
meat  was  presently  served. 

The  masterful  power  with  which  the  stalwart  youth 
and  his  father  swung  the  ax  and  their  cunning  crafts- 
manship impressed  the  English  woman  and  her  daugh- 
ter and  were  soon  to  be  the  topic  of  many  a  London 
tea  party.  Mrs.  Hare  spoke  of  it  as  she  was  eating 
her  supper. 


THE  HORSE   VALLEY  ADVENTURE     29 

"It  may  surprise  you  further  to  learn  that  the  boy 
is  fairly  familiar  with  the  ^neid  and  the  Odes  of 
Horace 'and  the  history  of  France  and  England,"  said 
John  Irons. 

"That  is  the  most  astonishing  thing'  I  have  ever 
heard!"  she  exclaimed.  "How  has  he  done  it?" 

"The  minister  was  his  master  until  we  went  into  the 
bush.  Then  I  had  to  be  farmer  and  school-teacher. 
There  is  a  great  thirst  for  learning  in  this  New  World." 

"How  do  you  find  time  for  it?" 

"Oh,  we  have  leisure  here — more  than  you  have.  In 
England  even  your  wealthy  young  men  are  over- 
worked. They  dine  out  and  play  cards  until  three  in 
the  morning  and  sleep  until  midday.  Then  luncheon 
and  the  cock  fight  and  tea  and  Parliament!  The  best 
of  us  have  only  three  steady  habits.  We  work  and 
study  and  sleep." 

"And  fight  savages,"  said  the  woman. 

"We  do  that,  sometimes,  but  it  is  not  often  neces- 
sary. If  it  were  not  for  white  savages,  there  would 
be  no  red  ones.  You  would  find  America  a  good  coun- 
try to  live  in." 

"At  least  I  hope  it  will  be  good  to  sleep  in  this 
night,"  the  woman  answered,  yawning.  "Dreamland 
is  now  the  only  country  I  care  for." 

The  ladies  and  children,  being  near  spent  by  the 
day's  travel  and  excitement,  turned  in  soon  after  sup- 
per. The  men  slept  on  their  blankets,  by  the  fire,  and 


3o       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

were  up  before  daylight  for  a  dip  in  the  creek  near  by. 
While  they  were  getting  breakfast,  the  women  and 
children  had  their  turn  at  the  creekside. 

That  day  the  released  captives  were  in  better  spirits. 
Soon  after  noon  the  company  came  to  a  swollen  river 
where  the  horses  had  some  swimming  to  do.  The 
older  animals  and  the  following  colts  went  through  all 
right,  but  the  young  stallion  which  Jack  and  Margaret 
were  riding,  began  to  rear  and  plunge.  The  girl  in  her 
fright  jumped  off  his  back  in  swift  water  and  was 
swept  into  the  rapids  and  tumbled  about  and  put  in 
some  danger  before  Jack  could  dismount  and  bring 
her  ashore. 

"You  have  increased  my  debt  to  you,"  she  said,  when 
at  last  they  were  mounted  again.  "What  a  story  this 
is!  It  is  terribly  exciting." 

"Getting  into  deeper  water,"  said  Jack.  "I'm  not 
going  to  let  you  spoil  it  by  drowning." 

"I  wonder  what  is  coming  next,"  said  she. 

"I  don't  know.     So  far  it's  as  good  as  Robinson 


Crusoe.' 


"With  a  book  you  can  skip  and  see  what  happens," 
she  laughed.  "But  we  shall  have  to  read  everything 
in  this  story.  I'd  love  to  know  all  about  you." 

He  told  her  with  boyish  frankness  of  his  plans  which 
included  learning  and  statesmanship  and  a  city  home. 
He  told  also  of  his  adventures  in  the  forest  with  his 
father. 

Meanwhile,   the  elder  John  Irons  and  Mrs.   Hare 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     31 

were  getting  acquainted  as  they  rode  along.  The 
woman  had  been  surprised  by  the  man's  intimate 
knowledge  of  English  history  and  had  spoken  of  it. 

"Well,  you  see  my  wife  is  a  granddaughter  of  Ho- 
ratio Walpole  of  Wolterton  and  my  mother  was  in  a 
like  way  related  to  Thomas  Pitt  so  you  see  I  have  a 
right  to  my  interest  in  the  history  of  the  home  land," 
said  John  Irons. 

"You  have  in  your  veins  some  of  the  best  blood  of 
England  and  so  I  am  sure  that  you  must  be  a  loyal 
subject  of  the  King,"  Mrs.  Hare  remarked. 

"No,  because  I  think  this  German  King  has  no  share 
in  the  spirit  of  his  country,"  Irons  answered.  "Our 
ancient  respect  for  human  rights  and  fair  play  is  not 
in  this  man." 

He  presented  his  reasons  for  the  opinion  and  while 
the  woman  made  no  answer,  .she  had  heard  for  the  first 
time  the  argument  of  the  New  World  and  was  im- 
pressed by  it. 

Late  in  the  day  they  came  out  on  a  rough  road, 
faring  down  into  the  settled  country,  and  that  night 
they  stopped  at  a  small  inn.  At  the  supper  table  a 
wizened  old  woman  was  telling  fortunes  in  a  tea 
cup. 

Miss  Hare  and  her  mother  drained  their  cups  and 
passed  them  to  the  old  woman.  The  latter  looked  into 
the  cup  of  the  young  lady  and  immediately  her  tongue 
began  to  rattle. 

"Two  ways  lie  before  you,"  she  piped  in  a  shrill 


32       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

voice.  "One  leads  to  happiness  and  many  children  and 
wealth  and  a  long  life.  It  is  steep  and  rough  at  the 
beginning  and  then  it  is  smooth  and  peaceful.  Yes.  It 
crosses  the  sea.  The  other  way  is  smooth  at  the  start 
and  then  it  grows  steep  and  rough  and  in  it  I  see  tears 
and  blood  and  dark  clouds  and,  do  you  see  that?"  she 
demanded  with  a  look  of  excitement,  as  she  pointed 
into  the  cup.  "It  is  a  very  evil  thing.  I  will  tell  you 
no  more." 

The  wizened  old  woman  rose  and,  with  a  determined 
look  in  her  face,  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Hare  and  her  daughter  seemed  to  be  much 
troubled  by  the  vision  of  the  fortune-teller. 

"I  hope  you  do  not  believe  in  that  kind  of  rubbish," 
John  Irons  remarked. 

"I  believe  implicitly  in  the  gift  of  second  sight," 
said  Mrs.  Hare.  "In  England  women  are  so  impa- 
tient to  know  their  fortunes  that  they  will  not  wait 
upon  Time,  and  the  seers  are  prosperous/' 

"I  have  no  faith  in  it,"  said  Mr.  Irons.  "What  she 
said  might  apply  to  the  future  of  any  young  person. 
Undoubtedly  there  are  two  ways  ahead  of  your  daugh- 
ter and  perhaps  more.  Each  must  choose  his  own 
way  wisely  or  come  to  trouble.  It  is  the  ancient  law." 

They  rode  on  next  morning  in  a  rough  road  between 
clearings  in  the  forest,  the  boy  and  girl  being  again  to- 
gether on  the  colt's  back,  she  in  front. 

"You  did  not  have  your  fortune  told,"  said  Miss 
Margaret. 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     33 

"It  has  been  told,"  Jack  answered.  "I  am  to  be 
married  in  England  to  a  beautiful  young  lady.  I 
thought  that  sounded  well  and  that  I  had  better  hold 
on  to  it.  I  might  go  further  and  fare  worse." 

"Tell  me  the  kind  of  girl  you  would  fancy." 

"I  wouldn't  dare  tell  you." 

"Why?" 

"For  fear  it  would  spoil  my  luck." 

They  rode  on  with  light  hearts  under  a  clear  sky, 
their  spirits  playing  together  like  birds  in  the  sunlight, 
touching  wings  and  then  flying  apart,  until  it  all  came 
to  a  climax  quite  unforeseen.  The  story  has  been 
passed  from  sire  to  son  and  from  mother  to  daughter 
in  a  certain  family  of  central  New  York  and  there  are 
those  now  living  who  could  tell  it.  These  two  were 
young  and  beautiful  and  well  content  with  each  other, 
it  is  said.  So  it  would  seem  that  Fate  could  not  let 
them  alone. 

"We  are  near  our  journey's  end,"  said  he,  by  and 
by 

"Oh,  then,  let  us  go  very  slowly,"  she  urged. 

Another  step  and  they  had  passed  the  hidden  gate 
between  reality  and  enchantment.  It  would  appear 
that  she  had  spoken  the  magic  words  which  had 
opened  it.  They  rode,  for  a  time,  without  further 
speech,  in  a  land  not  of  this  world,  although,  in  some 
degree,  familiar  to  the  best  of  its  people.  Only  they 
may  cross  that  border  who  have  kept  much  of  the  in- 
nocence of  childhood  and  felt  the  delightful  fear  of 


34      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

youth  that  was  in  those  two — they  only  may  know  the 
great  enchantment.  Does  it  not  make  an  undying 
memory  and  bring  to  the  face  of  age,  long  afterward, 
the  smile  of  joy  and  gratitude  ? 

The  next  word?  What  should  it  be?  Both  won- 
dered and  held  their  tongues  for  fear — one  can  not 
help  thinking — and  really  they  had  little  need  of  words. 
The  peal  of  a  hermit  thrush  filled  the  silence  with  its 
golden,  largo  chime  and  overtones  and  died  away  and 
rang  out  again  an'd  again.  That  voice  spoke  for  them 
far  better  than  either  could  have  spoken,  and  they  were 
content. 

"There  was  no  voice  on  land  or  sea  so  fit  for  the 
hour  and  the  ears  that  heard  it,"  she  wrote,  long  after- 
ward, in  a  letter. 

They  must  have  felt  it  in  the  longing  of  their  own 
hearts  and,  perhaps,  even  a  touch  of  the  pathos  in  the 
years  to  come.  They  rode  on  in  silence,  feeling  now 
the  beauty  of  the  green  woods.  It  had  become  a  magic 
garden  full  of  new  and  wonderful  things.  Some 
power  had  entered  them  and  opened  their  eyes.  The 
thrush's  song  grew  fainter  in  the  distance.  The  boy 
was  first  to  speak. 

"I  think  that  bird  must  have  had  a  long  flight  some- 
time," he  said. 

"Why?" 

"I  am  sure  that  he  has  heard  the  music  of  Paradise. 
I  wonder  if  you  are  as  happy  as  I  am." 

"I  was  never  so  happy,"  she  answered. 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     35 

"What  a  beautiful  country  we  are  in!  I  have  for- 
gotten all  about  the  danger  and  the  hardship  and  the 
evil  .men.  Have  you  ever  seen  any  place  like  it?" 

"No.  For  a  time  we  have  been  riding  in  fairy- 
land/' 

"I  know  why,"  said  the  boy. 

"Why?" 

"It  is  because  we  are  riding  together.  It  is  because 
I  see  you." 

"Oh,  dear !  I  can  not  see  you.  Let  us  get  off  and 
walk,"  she  proposed. 

They  dismounted. 

"Did  you  mean  that  honestly?" 

"Honestly,"  he  answered. 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  put  her  hand  over  her 
mouth. 

"I  was  going  to  say  something.  It  would  have  been 
most  unmaidenly,"  she  remarked. 

"There's  something  in  me  that  will  not  stay  unsaid. 
I  love  you,"  he  declared. 

She  held  up  her  hand  with  a  serious  look  in  her  eyes. 
Then,  for  a  moment,  the  boy  returned  to  the  world  of 
reality. 

"I  am  sorry.  Forgive  me.  I  ought  not  to  have  said 
it,"  he  stammered. 

"But  didn't  you  really  mean  it?"  she  asked  with 
troubled  eyes. 

"I  mean  that  and  more,  but  I  ought  not  to  have  said 
it  now.  It  isn't  fair.  You  have  just  escaped  from  a 


36      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

great  danger  and  have  got  a  notion  that  you  are  in 
debt  to  me  and  you  don't  know  much  about  me  any- 
how." 

She  stood  in  his  path  looking  up  at  him. 

"Jack/'  she  whispered.     "Please  say  it  again." 

No,  it  was  not  gone.  They  were  still  in  the  magic 
garden. 

"I  love  you  and  I  wish  this  journey  could  go  on 
forever,"  he  said. 

She  stepped  closer  and  he  put  his  arm  around  her 
and  kissed  her  lips.  She  ran  away  a  few  steps.  Then, 
indeed,  they  were  back  on  the  familiar  trail  in  the 
thirty-mile  bush.  A  moose  bird  was  screaming  at 
them.  She  turned  and  said : 

"I  wanted  you  to  know  but  I  have  said  nothing.  I 
couldn't.  I  am  under  a  sacred  promise.  You  are  a 
gentleman  and  you  will  not  kiss  me  or  speak  of  love 
again  until  you  have  talked  with  my  father.  It  is  the 
custom  of  our  country.  But  I  want  you  to  know  that 
I  am  very  happy." 

"I  don't  know  how  I  dared  to  say  and  do  what  I 
did,  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"/  couldn't  help  it  either.  I  just  longed  to  know  if 
you  dared." 

"The  rest  will  be  in  the  future — perhaps  far  in  the 
future." 

His  voice  trembled  a  little. 

"Not  far  if  you  come  to  me,  but  I  can  wait — I  will 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     37 

wait."  She  took  his  hand  as  they  were  walking  beside 
each  other  and  added :  "For  you" 

"I,  too,  will  wait,"  he  answered,  "and  as  long  as  I 
have  to." 

Mrs.  Hare,  walking  down  the  trail  to  meet  them, 
had  come  near.  Their  journey  out  of  the  wilderness 
had  ended,  but  for  each  a  new  life  had  begun. 

The  husband  and  father  of  the  two  ladies  had 
reached  the  fort  only  an  hour  or  so  ahead  of  the 
mounted  party  and  preparations  were  being  made  for 
an  expedition  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  Indians.  He 
was  known  to  most  of  his  friends  in  America  only  as 
Colonel  Benjamin  Hare — a  royal  commissioner  who 
had  come  to  the  colonies  to  inspect  and  report  upon  the 
defenses  of  His  Majesty.  He  wore  the  uniform  of  a 
Colonel  of  the  King's  Guard.  There  is  an  old  letter  of 
John  Irons  which  says  that  he  was  a  splendid  figure  of 
a  man,  tall  and  well  proportioned  and  about  forty, 
with  dark  eyes,  his  hair  and  mustache  just  beginning 
to  show  gray. 

"I  shall  not  try  here  to  measure  my  gratitude,"  he 
said  to  Mr.  Irons.  "I  will  see  you  to-morrow." 

"You  owe  me  nothing,"  Irons  answered.  "The  res- 
cue of  your  wife  and  daughter  is  due  to  the  resource- 
ful and  famous  scout — Solomon  Binkus." 

"Dear  old  rough -barked  hickory  man!"  the  Colonel 
exclaimed.  "I  hope  to  see  him  soon." 

He  went  at  once  with  his  wife  and  daughter  to 


38       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

rooms  in  the  fort.  That  evening  he  satisfied  himsel 
as  to  the  character  and  standing  of  John  Irons,  learn 
ing  that  he  was  a  patriot  of  large  influence  and  con 
siderable  means. 

The  latter  family  and  that  of  Peter  Bones  were  wel 
quartered  in  tents  with  a  part  of  the  Fifty-Fifth  Regi 
ment  then  at  Fort  Stanwix.  Next  morning  Jack  wen 
to  breakfast  with  Colonel  Hare  and  his  wife  am 
daughter  in  their  rooms,  after  which  the  Colonel  in 
vited  the  boy  to  take  a  walk  with  him  out  to  the  littl 
settlement  of  Mill  River.  Jack,  being  overawed,  wa 
rather  slow  in  declaring  himself  and  the  Colonel  pres 
ently  remarked : 

"You  and  my  daughter  seem  to  have  got  well  ac 
quainted." 

''Yes,  sir;  but  not  as  well  as  I  could  wish,"  Jad 
answered.  "Our  journey  ended  too  soon.  I  love  you 
daughter,  sir,  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  tell  her  an< 
ask  her  to  be  my  wife  sometime." 

"You  are  both  too  young,"  said  the  Colonel.  "Be 
sides  you  have  known  each  other  not  quite  three  day 
and  I  have  known  you  not  as  many  hours.  We  ar< 
deeply  grateful  to  you,  but  it  is  better  for  you  and  fo 
her  that  this  matter  should  not  be  hurried.  After  ; 
year  has  passed,  if  you  think  you  still  care  to  see  eacl 
other,  I  will  ask  you  to  come  to  England.  I  think  yoi 
are  a  fine,  manly,  brave  chap,  but  really  you  will  admi 
that  I  have  a  right  to  know  you  better  before  m; 
daughter  engages  to  marry  you." 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     39 

Jack  freely  admitted  that  the  request  was  well 
founded,  albeit  he  declared,  frankly,  that  he  would  like 
to  be  got  acquainted  with  as  soon  as  possible. 

"We  must  take  the  first  ship  back  to  England,"  said 
the  Colonel.  "You  are  both  young  and  in  a  matter  of 
this  kind  there  should  be  no  haste.  If  your  affection 
is  real,  it  will  be  none  the  worse  for  a  little  keeping." 

Solomon  Binkus  and  Peter  and  Israel  and  John 
Bones  and  some  settlers  north  of  Horse  Valley  arrived 
next  day  with  the  captured  Indians,  who,  under  a  mili- 
tary guard,  were  sent  on  to  the  Great  Father  at  John- 
son Castle. 

Colonel  Hare  was  astonished  that  neither  Solomon 
Binkus  nor  John  Irons  nor  his  son  would  accept  any 
gift  for  the  great  service  they  had  done  him. 

"I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  ever  pay,"  he  said  to  the 
faithful  Binkus.  "Money  would  not  be  good  enough 
for  your  reward." 

Solomon  stepped  close  to  the  great  man  and  said  in 
a  low  tone : 

"Them  young  'uns  has  growed  kind  o'  love  sick  an* 
I  wouldn't  wonder.  I  don't  ask  only  one  thing.  Don't 
make  no  mistake  'bout  this  'ere  boy.  In  the  bush  we 
have  a  way  o'  pickin'  out  men.  We'  see  how  they  stan' 
up  to  danger  an'  hard  work  an*  goin'  hungry.  Jack  is 
a  reg'lar  he-man.  I  know  'em  when  I  see  'em,  which — 
it's  a  sure  fact — I've  seen  all  kinds.  He's  got  brains 
an'  courage,  an'  a  tough  arm  an'  a  good  heart.  He'd 
die  fer  a  friend  any  day.  Ye  kin't  do  no  more.  So 


40       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

don't  make  no  mistake  'bout  him.  He  ain't  no  hemlock 
bow.  I  cocalate  there  ain't  no  better  man-timber  no- 
where— no,  sir,  not  nowhere  in  this  world — call  it 
king  er  lord  er  duke  er  any  name  ye  like.  So,  sir,  if 
ye  feel  like  doin'  suthin'  fer  me — which  I  didn't  never 
expect  it,  when  I  done  what  I  did — I'll  say  be  good  to 
the  boy.  You'd  never  have  to  be  'shamed  o'  him." 

"He's  a  likely  lad,"  said  Colonel  Hare.  "And  I  am 
rather  impressed  by  your  words,  although  they  present 
a  view  that  is  new  to  me,  We  shall  be  returning  soon 
and  I  dare  say  they  will  presently  forget  each  other,  but 
if  not,  and  he  becomes  a  good  man — as  good  a  man  as 
his  father — let  us  say — and  she  should  wish  to  marr^ 
him,  I  would  gladly  put  her  hand  in  his." 

A  letter  of  the  handsome  British  officer  to  his  friend, 
Doctor  Benjamin  Franklin,  reviews  the  history  of  this 
adventure  and  speaks  of  the  learning,  intelligence  and 
agreeable  personality  of  John  Irons.  Both  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Hare  liked  the  boy  and  his  parents  and  invited 
them  to  come  to  England,  although  the  latter  took  the 
invitation  as  a  mere  mark  of  courtesy. 

At  Fort  Stanwix,  John  Irons  sold  his  farm  and 
house  and  stock  to  Peter  Bones  and  decided  to  move 
his  family  to  Albany  where  he  could  educate  his  chil 
dren.  Both  he  and  his  wife  had  grown  weary  of  the 
loneliness  of  the  back  country,  and  the  peril  from  which 
they  had  been  delivered  was  a  deciding  factor.  So  it 
happened  that  the  Irons  family  and  Solomon  went  to 
Albany  by  bateaux  with  the  Hares.  It  was  a  delight- 


THE   HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     41 

ful  trip  in  good  autumn  weather  in  which  Colonel 
Hare  has  acknowledged  thai  both  he  and  his  wife  ac- 
quired a  deep  respect  "for  these  sinewy,  wise,  upright 
Americans,  some  of  whom  are  as  well  learned,  I  should 
say,  as  most  men  you  would  meet  in  London." 

They  stopped  at  Schenectady,  landing  in  a  brawl 
between  Whigs  and  Tories  which  soon  developed  into 
a  small  riot  over  the  erection  of  a  liberty  pole.  Loud 
and  bitter  words  were  being  hurled  between  the  two 
factions.  The  liberty  lovers,  being  in  much  larger 
force,  had  erected  the  pole  without  violent  opposition. 

"Just  what  does  this  mean  ?"  the  Colonel  asked  John 
Irons. 

"It  means  that  the  whole  country  is  in  a  ferment  of 
dissatisfaction,"  said  Irons.  "We  object  to  being  taxed 
by  a  Parliament  in  which  we  are  not  represented.  The 
trouble  should  be  stopped  not  by  force  but  by  action 
that  will  satisfy  our  sense  of  injustice — not  a  very  dif- 
ficult thing.  A  military  force,  quartered  in  Boston, 
has  done  great  mischief." 

"What  liberty  do  you  want?" 

"Liberty  to  have  a  voice  in  the  selection  of  our  gov- 
ernors and  magistrates  and  in  the  making  of  the  law? 
we  are  expected  to  obey." 

"I  think  it  is  a  just  demand,"  said  the  Colonel. 

Solomon  Binkus  had  listened  with  keen  interest. 

"I  sucked  in  the  love  o'liberty  with  my  mother's 
milk,"  he  said.  "Ye  mustn't  try  to  make  me  do  nothin' 
that  goes  ag'in'  my  common  sense;  if  ye  do,  ye're  goin 


42       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

to  have  a  gosh  hell  o'  a  time  with  the  ol'  man  which, 
you  hear  to  me,  will  last  as  long  as  I  do.  These  days 
there  ortn't  to  be  no  sech  thing  'mong  white  men  as 
bein'  born  into  captivity  an'  forced  to  obey  a  master, 
no  argeyment  bein'  allowed.  If  your  wife  an'  gal  had 
been  took  erway  by  the  Injuns,  that's  what  would  'a' 
happened  to  'em,  which  I'm  sart'in  they  wouldn't  'a' 
liked  it,  ner  you  nuther,  which  I  mean  to  say  it  respec'- 
ful,  sir." 

The  Colonel  wore  a  look  of  conviction. 

"I  see  how  you  feel  about  it,"  he  said. 

"It's  the  way  all  America  feels  about  it,"  said  Irons. 
"There  are  not  five  thousand  men  in  the  colonies  who 
would  differ  with  that  view." 

Having  arrived  in  the  river  city,  John  Irons  went, 
with  his  family,  to  The  King's  Arms.  That  very  day 
the  Hares  took  ship  for  New  York  on  their  way  to 
England.  Jack  and  Solomon  went  to  the  landing 
with  them. 

"Where  is  my  boy?"  Mrs.  Irons  asked  when  Binkus 
returned  alone. 

"Gone  down  the  river,"  said  the  latter. 

"Gone  down  the  river!"  Mrs.  Irons  exclaimed. 
"Why !  Isn't  that  he  coming  yonder  ?" 

"It's  only  part  o'  him,"  said  Solomon.  "His  heart 
has  gone  down  the  river.  But  it'll  be  comin'  back.  It 
'minds  me  o'  the  fust  time  I  throwed  a  harpoon  into  a 
sperm  whale.  He  went  off  like  a  bullet  an'  sounded 
an'  took  my  harpoon  an'  a  lot  o'  good  rope  with  him 


THE  HORSE  VALLEY  ADVENTURE     43 

an'  got  away  with  it.  Fer  'days  I  couldn't  think  o' 
nothin'  but  that  'ere  whale.  Then  he  b'gun  to  grow 
smaller  an'  less  important.  Jack  has  lost  his  fust 
whale." 

"He  looks  heart-broken — poor  boy!" 

"But  ye  orto  have  seen  her.  She's  got  the  ol'  har- 
poon in  her  side  an'  she  were  spoutin'  tears  an'  shakin' 
her  flukes  as  she  moved  away." 


CHAPTER  II 
SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH 

SOLOMON  BINKUS  in  his  talk  with  Colonel  Hare  had 
signalized  the  arrival  of  a  new  type  of  man  born  of 
new  conditions.  When  Lord  Howe  and  General 
Abercrombie  got  to  Albany  with  regiments  of  fine, 
high-bred,  young  fellows  from  London,  Manchester 
and  Liverpool,  out  for  a  holiday  and  magnificent  in 
their  uniforms  of  scarlet  and  gold,  each  with  his  beau- 
tiful and  abundant  hair  done  up  in  a  queue,  Mr.  Binkus 
laughed  and  said  they  looked  "terrible  pert."  He 
told  the  virile  and  profane  Captain  Lee  of  Howe's 
staff,  that  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  "make  a  hay- 
stack o'  their  hair  an'  give  'em  men's  clothes." 

"A  cart-load  o'  hair  was  mowed  off,"  to  quote  again 
from  Solomon,  and  all  their  splendor  shorn  away  for 
a  reason  apparent  to  them  before  they  had  gone  far  on 
their  ill-fated  expedition.  Hair-dressing  and  fine  milli- 
nery and  drawing-room  clothes  were  not  for  the  bush. 

An  inherited  sense  of  old  wrongs  was  the  mental 
background  of  this  new  type  of  man.  Life  in  the  bush 
had  strengthened  his  arm,  his  will  and  his  courage. 
His  words  fell  as  forcefully  as  his  ax  under  provoca- 
tion. He  was  deliberate  as  became  one  whose  scalp 
was  often  in  danger;  trained  to  think  of  the  common 

44 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH        45 

welfare  of  his  neighborhood  and  rather  careless  about 
the  look  of  his  coat  and  trousers. 

John  Irons  and  Solomon  Binkus  were  differing  ex- 
amples of  the  new  man.  Of  large  stature,  Irons  had 
a  reputation  of  being  the  strongest  man  in  the  New 
Hampshire  grants.  No  name  was  better  known  or  re- 
spected in  all  the  western  valleys.  His  father,  a  man 
of  some  means,  had  left  him  a  reasonable  compe- 
tence. 

Certain  old  records  of  Cumberland  County  speak 
of  his  unusual  gifts,  the  best  of  which  was,  perhaps, 
modesty.  He  had  once  entertained  Sir  William  John- 
son at  his  house  and  had  moved  west,  when  the  French 
and  Indian  War  began,  on  the  invitation  of  the  gov- 
ernor, bringing  his  horses  with  him.  For  years  he 
had  been  breeding  and  training  saddle  horses  for  the 
markets  in  New  England.  On  moving  he  had  turned 
his  stock  into  Sir  William's  pasture  and  built  a  log 
house  at  the  fort  and  served  as  an  aid  and  counselor  of 
the  great  man.  Meanwhile  his  wife  and  children  had 
lived  in  Albany.  When  the  back  country  was  thought 
safe  to  live  in,  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  Sir  Jeffrey 
Amherst,  he  had  gone  to  the  northern  valley  with  his 
herd,  and  prospered  there. 

Albany  had  one  wide  street  which  ran  along  the 
river-front  It  ended  at  the  gate  of  a  big,  common 
pasture  some  four  hundred  yards  south  of  the  landing 
which  was  near  the  center  of  the  little  city.  In  the 
north  it  ran  into  "the  great  road"  beyond  the  ample 


46      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

grounds  of  Colonel  Schuyler.  The  fort  and  hospital 
stood  on  the  top  of  the  big  hill.  Close  to  the  shore 
was  a  fringe  of  elms,  some  of  them  tall  and  stately, 
their  columns  feathered  with  wild  grape-vines.  A 
wide  space  between  the  trees  and  the  street  had  been 
turned  into  well-kept  gardens,  and  their  verdure  was 
a  pleasant  thing  to  see.  The  town  lay  along  the  foot 
of  a  steep  hill,  and,  midway,  a  huddle  of  buildings 
climbed  a  few  rods  up  the  slope.  At  the  top  was  the 
English  Church  and  below  it  were  the  Town  Hall,  the 
market  and  the  Dutch  Meeting-House.  Other  thor- 
oughfares west  of  the  main  one  were  being  laid  out 
and  settled. 

John  Irons  was  well  known  to  Colonel  Schuyler. 
The  good  man  gave  the  newcomers  a  hearty  welcome 
and  was  able  to  sell  them  a  house  ready  furnished — 
the  same  having  been  lately  vacated  by  an  officer  sum- 
moned to  England.  So  it  happened  that  John  Irons 
and  his  family  were  quickly  and  comfortably  settled 
in  their  new  home  and  the  children  at  work  in  school. 
He  soon  bought  some  land,  partly  cleared,  a  mile  or 
so  down  the  river  and  began  to  improve  it. 

"You've  had  lonesome  days  enough,  mother,"  he 
said  to  his  wife.  "We'll  live  here  in  the  village.  I'll 
buy  some  good,  young  niggers  if  I  can,  and  build 
a  house  for  'em,  and  go  back  and  forth  in  the 
saddle." 

The  best  families  had  negro  slaves  which  were,  in 
the  main,  like  Abraham's  servants,  each  having  been 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         47 

born  in  the  house  of  his  master.  They  were  regarded 
with  affection. 

It  was  a  peaceful,  happy,  mutually  helpful,  God- 
fearing community  in  which  the  affairs  of  each  were 
the  concern  of  all.  Every  summer  day,  emigrants 
were  passing  and  stopping,  on  their  way  west,  towing 
bateaux  for  use  in  the  upper  waters  of  the  Mohawk. 
These  were  mostly  Irish  and  German  people  seeking 
cheap  land,  and  seeing  not  the  danger  in  wars  to 
come. 

There  is  an  old  letter  from  John  Irons  to  his  sister 
in  Braintree  which  says  that  Jack,  of  whom  he  had  a 
great  pride,  was  getting  on  famously  in  school.  "But 
he  shows  no  favor  to  any  of  the  girls,  having  lost  his 
heart  to  a  young  English  maid  whom  he  helped  to 
rescue  from  the  Indians.  We  think  it  lucky  that  she 
should  be  far  away  so  that  he  may  better  keep  his 
resolution  to  be  educated  and  his  composure  in  the 
task." 

The  arrival  of  the  mail  was  an  event  in  Albany  those 
days.  Letters  had  come  to  be  regarded  there  as  com- 
mon property.  They  were  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
and  read  in  neighborhood  assemblies.  Often  they  told 
of  great  hardship  and  stirring  adventures  in  the  wilder- 
ness and  of  events  beyond  the  sea. 

Every  week  the  mail  brought  papers  from  the  three 
big  cities,  which  were  read  eagerly  and  loaned  or  ex- 
changed until  their  contents  had  traveled  through  every 
street.  Benjamin  Franklin's  Pennsylvania  Gazette 


48      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

came  to  John  Irons,  and  having  been  read  aloud  by  the 
fireside  was  given  to  Simon  Grover  in  exchange  for 
Rivington's  New  York  Weekly. 

Jack  was  in  a  coasting  party  on  Gallows  Hill  when 
his  father  brought  him  a  fat  letter  from  England.  He 
went  home  at  once  to  read  it  The  letter  was  from 
Margaret  Hare — a  love-letter  which  proposed  a  rather 
difficult  problem.  It  is  now  a  bit  of  paper  so  brittle 
with  age  it  has  to  be  delicately  handled.  Its  neatly 
drawn  chirography  is  faded  to  a  light  yellow,  but  how 
alive  it  is  with  youthful  ardor : 

"I  think  of  you  and  pray  for  you  very  often,"  it 
says.  "I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  me  or  must  I 
look  for  another  to  help  me  enjoy  that  happy  fortune 
of  which  you  have  heard?  Please  tell  me  truly.  My 
father  has  met  Doctor  Franklin  who  told  of  the  night 
he  spent  at  your  home  and  that  he  thought  you  were 
a  noble  and  promising  lad.  What  a  pleasure  it  was  to 
hear  him  say  that!  We  are  much  alarmed  by 'events  in 
America.  My  mother  and  I  stand  up  for  Americans, 
but  my  father  has  changed  his  views  since  we  came 
down  the  Mohawk  together.  You  must  remember  that 
he  is  a  friend  of  the  King.  I  hope  that  you  and  your 
father  will  be  patient  and  take  no  part  in  the  riots 
and  house  burnings.  You  have  English  blood  in  your 
veins  and  old  England  ought  to  be  dear  to  you.  She 
really  loves  America  very  much,  indeed,  if  not  as  much 
as  I  love  you.  Can  you  not  endure  the  wrongs  for  her 
sake  and  mine  in  the  hope  that  they  will  soon  be 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         49 

righted?  Whatever  happens  I  shall  not  cease  to  love 
you,  but  the  fear  comes  to  me  that,  if  you  turn  against 
England,  I  shall  love  in  vain.  There  are  days  when 
the  future  looks  dark  and  I  hope  that  your  answer  will 
break  the  clouds  that  hang  over  it." 

So  ran  a  part  of  the  letter,  colored  somewhat  by  the 
diplomacy  of  a  shrewd  mother,  one  would  say  who 
read  it  carefully.  The  neighbors  had  heard  of  its  ar- 
rival and  many  of  them  dropped  in  that  evening,  but 
they  went  home  none  the  wiser.  After  the  company 
had  gone,  Jack  showed  the  letter  to  his  father  and 
mother. 

"My  boy,  it  is  a  time  to  stand  firm,"  said  his  father. 

"I  think  so,  too,"  the  boy  answered. 

"Are  you  still  in  love  with  her?"  his  mother  asked. 

The  boy  blushed  as  he  looked  down  into  the  fire  and 
did  not  answer. 

"She  is  a  pretty  miss,"  the  woman  went  on.  "But 
if  you  have  to  choose  between  her  and  liberty,  what 
will  you  say?" 

"I  can  answer  for  Jack,"  said  John  Irons.  "He 
will  say  that  we  in  America  will  give  up  father  and 
mother  and  home  and  life  and  everything  we  hold 
dear  for  the  love  of  liberty." 

"Of  course  I  could  not  be  a  Tory,"  Jack  declared. 

The  boy  had  studiously  read  the  books  which  Doctor 
Franklin  had  sent  to  him — Pilgrim's  Progress,  Plu- 
tarch's Lives,  and  a  number  of  the  works  of  Danid 
Defoe.  He  had  discussed  them  with  his  father  and  at 


50      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

the  latter's  suggestion  had  set  down  his  impressions. 
His  father  had  assured  him  that  it  was  well  done,  but 
had  said  to  Mrs.  Irons  that  it  showed  "a  remarkable 
Tightness  of  mind  and  temper  and  unexpected  aptitude 
in  the  art  of  expression." 

It  is  likely  that  the  boy  wrote  many  letters  which 
Miss  Margaret  never  saw  before  his  arguments  were 
set  down  in  the  firm,  gentle  and  winning  tone  which 
satisfied  his  spirit.  Having  finished  his  letter,  at  last, 
he  read  it  aloud  to  his  father  and  mother  one  evening 
as  they  sat  together,  by  the  fireside,  after  the  rest  of 
the  family  had  gone  to  bed.  Tears  of  pride  came  to 
the  eyes  of  the  man  and  woman  when  the  long  letter 
was  finished. 

"I  love  old  England,"  it  said,  "because  it  is  your 
home  and  because  it  was  the  home  of  my  fathers.  But 
I  am  sure  it  is  not  old  England  which  made  the  laws  we 
hate  and  sent  soldiers  to  Boston.  Is  it  not  anothev 
England  which  the  King  and  his  ministers  invented? 
I  ask  you  to  be  true  to  old  England  which,  my  father 
has  told  me,  stood  for  justice  and  human  rights. 

"But  after  all,  what  has  politics  to  do  with  you  and 
me  as  a  pair  of  human  beings?  Our  love  is  a  thing 
above  that.  The  acts  of  the  King  or  my  fellow  coun- 
trymen can  not  affect  my  love  for  you,  and  to  know 
that  you  are  of  the  same  mind  holds  me  above  despair. 
I  would  think  it  a  great  hardship  if  either  King  or 
colony  had  the  power  to  put  a  tax  on  you — a  tax  which 
demanded  my  principles.  Can  not  your  father  differ 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         51 

with  me  in  politics — although  when  you  were  here  I 
made  sure  that  he  agreed  with  us — and  keep  his  faith 
in  me  as  a  gentleman  ?  I  can  not  believe  that  he  would 
like  me  if  I  had  a  character  so  small  and  so  easily 
shifted  about  that  I  would  change  it  to  please  him.  I 
am  sure,  too,  that  if  there  is  anything  in  me  you  love, 
it  is  my  character.  Therefore,  if  I  were  to  change  it 
I  should  lose  your  love  and  his  respect  also.  Is  that 
not  true  ?" 

This  was  part  of  the  letter  which  Jack  had  written. 

"My  boy,  it  is  a  good  letter  and  they  will  have  to 
?'ke  you  the  better  for  it,"  said  John  Irons. 

Old  Solomon  Binkus  was  often  at  the  Irons  home 
those  days.  He  had  gone  back  in  the  bush,  since  the 
war  ended,  and,  that  winter,  his  traps  were  on  many 
streams  and  ponds  between  Albany  and  Lake  Cham- 
plain.  He  came  down  over  the  hills  for  a  night  with 
his  friends  when  he  reached  the  southern  end  of  his 
beat.  It  was  probably  because  the  boy  had  loved  the 
tales  of  the  trapper  and  the  trapper  had  found  in  the 
boy  something  which  his  life  had  missed,  that  an  affec- 
tion began  to  grow  up  between  them.  Solomon  was 
a  childless  widower. 

"My  wife !  I  tell  ye,  sir,  she  had  the  eyes  an'  feet  o' 
the  young  doe  an'  her  cheeks  were  like  the  wild,  red 
rose,"  the  scout  was  wont  to  say  on  occasion.  "I  orto 
have  knowed  better.  Yes,  sir,  I  orto.  We  lived  way 
back  in  the  bush  an'  the  child  come  'fore  we  'spected 
it  one  night.  I  done  what  I  could  but  suthin'  went 


52       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

wrong.  They  tuk  the  high  trail,  both  on  'em.  I  rigged 
up  a  sled  an'  drawed  their  poor  remains  into  a  settle- 
ment. That  were  a  hard  walk — you  hear  to  me.  No, 
sir,  I  couldn't  never  marry  no  other  womern — not  if 
she  was  a  queen  covered  with  dimon's — never.  I 
'member  her  so.  Some  folks  it's  easy  to  fergit  an* 
some  it  ain't.  That's  the  way  o'  it." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Irons  respected  the  scout,  pitying  his 
lonely  plight  and  loving  his  cheerful  company.  He 
never  spoke  of  his  troubles  unless  some  thoughtless 
person  had  put  him  to  it. 

2 

That  winter  the  Irons  family  and  Solomon  Binkus 
went  often  to  the  meetings  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty. 
One  purpose  of  this  organization  was  to  induce  people 
to  manufacture  their  own  necessities  and  thus  avoid 
buying  the  products  of  Great  Britain.  Factories  were 
busy  making  looms  and  spinning-wheels;  skilled  men 
and  women  taught  the  arts  of  spinning,  weaving  and 
tailoring.  The  slogan  "Home  Made  or  Nothing/' 
traveled  far  and  wide. 

Late  in  February,  Jack  Irons  and  Solomon  Binkus 
went  east  as  delegates  to  a  large  meeting  of  the  Sons 
of  Liberty  in  Springfield.  They  traveled  on  snow- 
shoes  and  by  stage,  finding  the  bitterness  of  the  people 
growing  more  intense  as  they  proceeded.  They  found 
many  women  using  thorns  instead  of  pins  and  knitting 
one  pair  of  stockings  with  the  ravelings  of  another 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         53 

They  were  also  flossing  out  their  silk  gowns  and  spin- 
ning the  floss  into  gloves  with  cotton.  All  this  was  to 
avoid  buying  goods  sent  over  from  Great  Britain. 

Jack  tells  in  a  letter  to  his  mother  of  overtaking  a 
young  man  with  a  pack  on  his  back  and  an  ax  in  his 
hand  on  his  way  to  Harvard  College.  He  was  plan- 
ning- to  work  in  a  mill  to  pay  his  board  and  tuition. 

"We  hear  in  every  house  we  enter  the  stories  and 
maxims  of  Poor  Richard,"  the  boy  wrote  in  his  letter. 
"A  number  of  them  were  quoted  in  the  meeting. 
Doctor  Franklin  is  everywhere  these  days." 

The  meeting  over,  Jack  and  Solomon  went  on  by 
stage  to  Boston  for  a  look  at  the  big  city. 

They  arrived  there  on  the  fifth  of  March  a  little 
after  dark.  The  moon  was  shining.  A  snow  flurry 
had  whitened  the  streets.  The  air  was  still  and  cold. 
They  had  their  suppers  at  The  Ship  and  Anchor. 
While  they  were  eating  they  heard  that  a  company  of 
British  soldiers  who  were  encamped  near  the  Presby- 
terian Meeting-House  had  beaten  their  drums  on  Sun- 
day so  that  no  worshiper  could  hear  the  preaching. 

"And  the  worst  of  it  is  we  are  compelled  to  furnish 
them  food  and  quarters  while  they  insult  and  annoy 
us,"  said  a  minister  who  sat  at  the  table. 

After  supper  Jack  and  Solomon  went  out  for  a  walk. 
They  heard  violent  talk  among  people  gathered  at  the 
street  corners.  They  soon  overtook  a  noisy  crowd  of 
boys  and  young  men  carrying  clubs.  In  front  of  Mur- 
ray's Barracks  where  the  Twenty-Ninth  Regiment  was 


54      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

quartered,  there  was  a  chattering  crowd  of  men  and 
boys.  Some  of  them  were  hooting  and  cursing4  at 
two  sentinels.  The  streets  were  lighted  by  oil  lamps 
and  by  candles  in  the  windows  of  the  houses. 

In  Cornhill  they  came  upon  a  larger  and  more  vio- 
lent assemblage  of  the  same  kind.  They  made  their 
way  through  it  and  saw  beyond,  a  captain,  a  corporal 
and  six  private  soldiers  standing,  face  to  face,  with  the 
crowd.  Men  were  jeering  at  them;  boys  hurling 
abusive  epithets.  The  boys,  as  they  are  apt  to  do,  re- 
flected, with  some  exaggeration,  the  passions  of  their 
elders.  It  was  a  crowd  of  rough  fellows — mostly 
wharfmen  and  sailors.  Solomon  sensed  the  danger  in 
the  situation.  He  and  Jack  moved  out  of  the  jeering 
mob.  Then  suddenly  a  thing  happened  which  may 
have  saved  one  or  both  of  their  lives.  The  Captain 
drew  his  sword  and  flashed  a  dark  light  upon  Solomon 
and  called  out : 

"Hello,  Binkus!     What  the  hell  do  you  want?*' 

"Who  be  ye  ?"  Solomon  asked. 

"Preston." 

"Preston !  Cat's  blood  an'  gunpowder !  What's  the 
matter?" 

Preston,  an  old  comrade  of  Solomon,  said  to  him: 

"Go  around  to  headquarters  and  tell  them  we  are 
cut  off  by  a  mob  and  in  a  bad  mess.  I'm  a  little 
scared.  I  don't  want  to  get  hurt  or  do  any  hurting/' 

Jack  and  Solomon  passed  through  the  guard  and 
hurried  on.  Then  there  were  hisses  and  cries  of 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         55 

"Tories!  Rotten  Tories!"  As  the  two  went  on  they 
heard  missiles  falling  behind  them  and  among  the 
soldiers. 

"They's  goin'  to  be  bad  trouble  thar,"  said  Solomon. 
"Them  lads  ain't  to  blame.  They're  only  doin'  as 
they're  commanded.  It's  the  dam'  King  that  orto 
be  hetchelled." 

They  were  hurrying  on,  as  he  spoke,  and  the  words 
were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  when  they  heard  the 
command  to  fire  and  a  rifle  volley — then  loud  cries  of 
pain  and  shrill  curses  and  running  feet.  They  turned 
and  started  back.  People  were  rushing  out  of  their 
houses,  some  with  guns  in  their  hands.  In  a  moment 
the  street  was  full. 

"The  soldiers  are  slaying  people,"  a  man  shouted. 
"Men  of  Boston,  we  must  arm  ourselves  and  fight." 

It  was  a  scene  of  wild  confusion.  They  could  get 
no  farther  on  Cornhill.  The  crowd  began  to  pour  into 
side-streets.  Rumors  were  flying  about  that  many  had 
been  killed  and  wounded.  An  hour  or  so  later  Jack 
and  Solomon  were  seized  by  a  group  of  ruffians. 

"Here  are  the  damn  Tories !"  one  of  them  shouted. 

"Friends  o'  murderers!"  was  the  cry  of  another. 
"Le'shang'em!" 

Solomon  immediately  knocked  the  man  down  who 
had  called  them  Tories  and  seized  another  and  tossed 
him  so  far  in  the  crowd  as  to  give  it  pause. 

"I  don't  mind  bein'  hung,"  he  shouted,  "not  if  it's 
done  proper,  but  no  man  kin  call  me  a  Tory  lessen  my 


$6      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

hands  are  tied,  without  gittin'  hurt.  An'  if  my  hands 
was  tied  I'd  do  some  hollerin',  now  you  hear  to  me." 
A  man  back  in  the  crowd  let  out  a  laugh  as  loud  as 
the  braying  of  an  ass.  Others  followed  his  example. 
The  danger  was  passed.  Solomon  shouted : 

"I  used  to  know  Preston  when  I  were  a  scout  in 
Amherst's  army  fightin'  Injuns  an'  Frenchmen,  which 
they's  more'n  twenty  notches  on  the  stock  o'  my  rifle 
an'  fourteen  on  my  pelt,  an'  my  name  is  Solomon 
Binkus  from  Albany,  New  York,  an'  if  you'll  excuse 
us,  we'll  put  fer  hum  as  soon  as  we  kin  git  erway  con- 
venient." 

They  started  for  The  Ship  and  Anchor  with  a  num- 
ber of  men  and  boys  following  and  trying  to  talk  with 
them. 

"I'll  tell  ye,  Jack,  they's  trouble  ahead,"  said  Solo- 
mon as  they  made  their  way  through  the  crowded 
streets. 

Many  were  saying  that  there  could  be  no  more  peace 
with  England. 

In  the  morning  they  learned  that  three  men  had 
been  killed  and  five  others  wounded  by  the  soldiers. 
Squads  of  men  and  boys  with  loaded  muskets  were 
marching  into  town  from  the  country. 

Jack  and  Solomon  attended  the  town  meeting  that 
day  in  the  old  South  Meeting-House.  It  was  a  quiet 
and  orderly  crowd  that  listened  to  the  speeches  of 
Josiah  Quincy,  John  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  de- 
manding calmly  but  firmly  that  the  soldiers  be  forth- 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         57 

with  removed  from  the  city.  The  famous  John  Han- 
cock cut  a  great  figure  in  Boston  those  days.  It  is  not 
surprising  that  Jack  was  impressed  by  his  grandeur 
for  he  had  entered  the  meeting-house  in  a  scarlet  vel- 
vet cap  and  a  blue  damask  gown  lined  with  velvet  and 
strode  to  the  platform  with  a  dignity  even  above  his 
garments.  As  he  faced  about  the  boy  did  not  fail  to 
notice  and  admire  the  white  satin  waistcoat  and  white 
silk  stockings  and  red  morocco  slippers.  Mr.  Quincy 
made  a  statement  which  stuck  like  a  bur  in  Jack  Irons' 
memory  of  that  day  and  perhaps  all  the  faster  because 
he  did  not  quite  understand  it.  The  speaker  said: 
"The  dragon's  teeth  have  been  sown." 

The  chairman  asked  if  there  was  any  citizen  present 
who  had  been  on  the  scene  at  or  about  the  time  of  the 
shooting.  Solomon  Binkus  arose  and  held  up  his  hand 
and  was  asked  to  go  to  the  minister's  room  and  confer 
with  the  committee. 

Mr.  John  Adams  called  at  the  inn  that  evening  and 
announced  that  he  was  to  defend  Captain  Preston  and 
would  require  the  help  of  Jack  and  Solomon  as  wit- 
nesses. For  that  reason  they  were  detained  some  days 
in  Boston  and  released  finally  on  the  promise  to  return 
when  their  services  were  required. 

They  left  Boston  by  stage  and  one  evening  in  early 
April,  traveling  afoot,  they  saw  the  familiar  bone- 
heads  around  the  pasture  lands  above  Albany  where 
the  farmers  had  crowned  their  fence  stakes  with  the 
skeleton  heads  of  deer,  moose,  sheep  and  cattle  in 


58      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

which  birds  had  the  habit  of  building  their  nests.  It 
had  been  thawing  for  days,  but  the  night  had  fallen 
clear  and  cold.  They  had  stopped  at  the  house  of  a 
settler  some  miles  northeast  of  Albany  to  get  a  sled 
load  of  Solomon's  pelts  which  had  been  stretched  and 
hung  there.  Weary  of  the  brittle  snow,  they  took  to 
the  river  a  mile  or  so  above  the  little  city,  Solomon 
hauling  his  sled.  Jack  had  put  on  the  new  skates 
which  he  had  bought  in  Bennington  where  they  had 
gone  for  a  visit  with  old  friends.  They  were  out  on 
the  clear  ice,  far  from  either  shore,  when  they  heard 
an  alarming  peal  of  "river  thunder" — a  name  which 
Binkus  applied  to  a  curious  phenomenon  often  accom- 
panied by  great  danger  to  those  on  the  rotted  roof 
of  the  Hudson.  The  hidden  water  had  been  swelling. 
Suddenly  it  had  made  a  rip  in  the  great  ice  vault  a 
mile  long  with  a  noise  like  the  explosion  of  a  barrel  of 
powder.  The  rip  ran  north  and  south  about  mid- 
stream. They  were  on  the  west  sheet  and  felt  it  waver 
and  subside  tilt  it  had  found  a  bearing  on  the  river 
surface. 

"We  must  git  off  o'  here  quick,"  said  Binkus.  "She's 
goin'  to  break  up." 

"Let  me  have  the  sled  and  as  soon  as  I  get  going, 
you  hop  on,"  said  Jack. 

The  boy  began  skating  straight  toward  the  shore, 
drawing  the  sled  and  its  load,  Solomon  kicking  out  be- 
hind with  his  spiked  boots  until  they  were  well  under 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         59 

way.  They  heard  the  east  sheet  breaking  up  before 
they  had  made  half  the  distance  to  safe  footing.  Then 
their  own  began  to  crack  into  sections  as  big  "as  a  ten- 
acre  lot,"  Mr.  Binkus  said,  "an"  the  noise  was  like  a 
battle,  but  Jack  kept  a-goin'  an'  me  settin'  light  an' 
my  mind  a-pushin'  like  a  scairt  deer."  Water  was 
flooding  over  the  ice  which  had  broken  near  shore, 
but  the  skater  jumped  the  crack  before  it  was  wider 
than  a  man's  hand  and  took  the  sled  with  him.  They 
reached  the  river's  edge  before  the  ice  began  heaving 
and  there  the  sloped  snow  had  been  wet  and  frozen 
to  rocks  and  bushes,  so  they  were  able  to  make  their 
way  through  it. 

"Now,  we're  even,"  said  Solomon  when  they  had 
hauled  the  sled  up  the  river  bank  while  he  looked  back 
at  the  ice  now. breaking  and  beginning  to  pile  up,  "I 
done  you  a  favor  an'  you've  done  me  one.  It's  my 
turn  next." 

This  was  the  third  in  the  remarkable  series  of  ad- 
ventures which  came  to  these  men. 

They  had  a  hearty  welcome  at  the  little  house  near 
The  King's  Arms,  where  they  sat  until  midnight  tell- 
ing of  their  adventures.  In  the  midst  of  it,  Jack  said 
to  his  father: 

"I  heard  a  speaker  say  in  Boston  that  the  dragon's 
teeth  had  been  sown.  What  does  that  mean?" 

"It  means  that  war  is  coming,"  said  John  Irons. 
"We  might  as  well  get  ready  for  it." 


60      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

These  words,  coming  from  his  father,  gave  him  a 
shock  of  surprise.  He  began  to  think  of  the  effect  of 
war  on  his  own  fortunes. 

3 
Solomon  sent  his  furs  to  market  and  went  to  work 

on  the  farm  of  John  Irons  and  lived  with  the  family. 
The  boy  returned  to  school.  After  the  hay  had  been 
cut  and  stacked  in  mid-summer,  they  were  summoned 
to  Boston  to  testify  in  the  trial  of  Preston.  They  left 
in  September  taking  with  them  a  drove  of  horses. 

"It  will  be  good  for  Jack,"  John  Irons  had  said  to 
his  wife.  "He'll  be  the  better  prepared  for  his  work 
in  Philadelphia  next  fall." 

Two  important  letters  had  arrived  that  summer. 
One  from  Benjamin  Franklin  to  John  Irons,  offering 
Jack  a  chance  to  learn  the  printer's  trade  in  his  Phila- 
delphia shop  and  board  and  lodging  in  his  home.  "If 
the  boy  is  disposed  to  make  a  wise  improvement  of  his 
time,"  the  great  man  had  written,  "I  shall  see  that  he 
has  an  opportunity  to  take  a  course  at  our  Academy.  I 
am  sure  he  would  be  a  help  and  comfort  to  Mrs. 
Franklin.  She,  I  think,  will  love  to  mother  him.  Do 
not  be  afraid  to  send  him  away  from  home.  It  will 
help  him  along  toward  manhood.  I  was  much  im- 
pressed by  his  letter  to  Miss  Margaret  Hare,  which 
her  mother  had  the  goodness  to  show  me.  He  has  a 
fine  spirit  and  a  rare  gift  for  expressing  it.  She  and 
the  girl  were  convinced  by  its  argument,  but  the  Colo- 
nel himself  is  an  obdurate  Tory — he  being  a  favorite 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         61 

of  the  King.  The  girl,  now  very  charming  and  much 
admired,  is,  I  happen  to  know,  deeply  in  love  with 
your  son.  I  have  promised  her  that,  if  she  will  wait 
for  him,  I  will  bring  him  over  in  good  time  and  act  as 
your  vicar  at  the  wedding.  This,  she  and  her  mother 
are  the  more  ready  to  do  because  of  their  superstition 
that  God  has  clearly  indicated  him  as  the  man  who 
would  bring  her  happiness  and  good  fortune.  I  find 
that  many  European  women  are  apt  to  entertain  and 
enjoy  superstition  and  to  believe  in  omens — not  the 
only  drop  of  old  pagan  blood  that  lingers  in  their 
veins.  I  am  sending,  by  this  boat,  some  more  books 
for  Jack  to  read." 

The  other  letter  was  from  Margaret  Hare  to  the 
boy,  in  which  she  had  said  that  they  were  glad  to 
learn  that  he  and  Mr.  Binkus  were  friends  of  Captain 
Preston  and  inclined  to  help  him  in  his  trouble.  "Since 
I  read  your  letter  I  am  more  in  love  with  you  than 
ever,"  she  had  written.  "My  father  was  pleased  with 
it.  He  thinks  that  all  cause  of  complaint  will  be  re- 
moved. Until  it  is,  I  do  not  ask  you  to  be  a  Tory,  but 
only  to  be  patient." 

Jack  and  Solomon  were  the  whole  day  getting 
their  horses  across  Van  Deusen's  ferry  and  headed 
eastward  in  the  rough  road.  Mr.  Binkus  wore  his 
hanger — an  old  Damascus  blade  inherited  from  his 
father — and  carried  his  long  musket  and  an  abundant 
store  of  ammunition ;  Jack  wore  his  two  pistols,  in  the 
use  of  which  he  had  become  most  expert. 


62       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

When  the  horses  had  "got  the  kinks  worked  out," 
as  Solomon  put  it,  and  were  a  trifle  tired,  they  browsed 
along  quietly  with  the  man  and  boy  riding  before  and 
behind  them.  By  and  by  they  struck  into  the  twenty- 
mile  bush  beyond  the  valley  farms.  In  the  second  day 
of  their  travel  they  passed  an  Albany  trader  going  east 
with  small  kegs  of  rum  on  a  pack  of  horses  and  toward 
evening  came  to  an  Indian  village.  They  were  both 
at  the  head  of  the  herd. 

"Stop,"  said  Solomon  as  they  saw  the  smoke  of  the 
fires  ahead.  "We  got  to  behave  proper." 

He  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth  and  shouted  a  loud 
halloo,  which  was  quickly  answered.  Then  two  old 
men  came  out  to  him  and  the  talk  which  followed  in 
the  Mohawk  dialect  was  thus  reported  by  the  scout  to 
his  companion : 

"We  wish  to  see  the  chief,"  said  Solomon.  "We 
have  gifts  for  him." 

"Come  with  us,"  said  one  of  the  old  men  as  they  led 
Solomon  to  the  Stranger's  House.  The  old  men  went 
from  hut  to  hut  announcing  the  newcomers.  Victuals 
and  pipes  and  tobacco  were  sent  to  the  Stranger's 
House  for  them.  This  structure  looked  like  a  small 
barn  and  was  made  of  rived  spruce.  Inside,  the  chief 
sat  on  a  pile  of  unthrashed  wheat.  He  had  a  head  and 
face  which  reminded  Jack  of  the  old  Roman  emperors 
shown  in  the  Historical  Collections.  There  was  re- 
markable dignity  in  his  deep-lined  face.  His  name 
was  Thunder  Tongue.  The  house  had  no  windows. 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         63 

Many  skins  hung  from  its  one  cross-beam  above  their 
heads. 

Mr.  Binkus  presented  beaver  skins  and  a  handsome 
belt.  Then  the  chief  sent  out  some  women  to  watch 
the  horses  and  to  bring  Jack  into  the  village.  Near  by 
were  small  fields  of  wheat  and  maize.  The  two  trav- 
elers sat  down  with  the  chief,  who  talked  freely  to 
Solomon  Binkus. 

"If  white  man  comes  to  our  village  cold,  we  warm 
him;  wet,  we  dry  him;  hungry,  we  feed  him,"  he  said. 
"When  Injun  man  goes  to  Albany  and  asks  for  food, 
they  say,  "Where's  your  money?  Get  out,  you  Injun 
dog !'  The  white  man  he  comes  with  scaura  and  trades 
it  for  skins.  It  steals  away  the  wisdom  of  the  young 
braves.  It  bends  my  neck  with  trouble.  It  is  bad" 

They  noted  this  just  feeling  of  resentment  in  the  old 
chief  and  expressed  their  sympathy.  Soon  the  Albany 
trader  came  with  his  pack  of  rum.  The  chief  greeted 
him  cheerfully  and  asked  for  scaura. 

"I  have  enough  to  make  a  hundred  men  happy,"  the 
trader  answered. 

"Bring  it  to  me,  for  I  have  a  sad  heart,"  said  Thun- 
der Tongue. 

When  the  Dutch  trader  went  to  his  horse  for  the 
kegs,  Solomon  said  to  the  chief : 

"Why  do  you  let  him  bring  trouble  to  your  village 
and  steal  away  the  wisdom  of  your  warriors?" 

"Tell  me  why  the  creek  flows  to  the  great  river  and 
{  will  answer  you,"  said  the  chief. 


64      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

He  began  drinking  as  soon  as  the  trader  came  with 
the  kegs,  while  the  young  warriors  gathered  about  the 
door,  each  with  skins  on  his  arm.  Soon  every  male 
Indian  was  staggering  and  whooping  and  the  squaws 
with  the  children  had  started  into  the  thkkets. 

Solomon  nudged  Jack  and  left  the  hut,  followed  by 
the  boy. 

"Come  on.  Let's  git  out  o'  here.  The  squaws  an' 
the  young  'uns  are  sneakin'.  You  hear  to  me — thar'll 
be  hell  to  pay  here  soon." 

So  while  the  braves  were  gathered  about  the  trader 
and  were  draining  cups  of  fire-water,  the  travelers 
made  haste  to  mount  and  get  around  the  village  and 
back  into  their  trail  with  the  herd.  They  traveled  some 
miles  in  the  long  twilight  and  stopped  at  the  Stony 
Brook  Ford,  where  there  were  good  water  and  suffi- 
cient grazing. 

"Here's  whar  the  oF  Green  Mountain  Tra'l  comes 
down  from  the  north  an'  crosses  the  one  we're  on," 
said  Solomon. 

They  dismounted  and  Solomon  hobbled  a  number  of 
horses  while  Jack  was  building  a  fire.  The  scout,  re- 
turning from  the  wild  meadow,  began  to  examine 
some  tracks  he  had  found  at  the  trail  crossing.  Sud- 
denly he  gave  a  whistle  of  surprise  and  knelt  on  the 
ground. 

"Look  'ere,  Jack,"  he  called. 

The  boy  ran  to  his  side. 

"Now  this  'ere  is  suthin'  cur 'user  than  the  right 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         65 

hoof  o'  the  devil,"  said  Solomon  Binkus,  as  he  pointed 
with  his  forefinger  at  a  print  in  the  soft  dirt. 

Jack  saw  the  print  of  the  wooden  stump  with  the 
iron  ring  around  its  base  which  the  boy  had  not  for- 
gotten. Near  it  were  a  number  of  moccasin  tracks. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  asked. 

"Wall,  sir,  I  cocalate  it  means  that  ol'  Mike  Harpe 
has  been  chased  out  o'  the  Ohio  country  an'  has  come 
down  the  big  river  an'  into  Lake  Champlain  with  some 
o'  his  band  an'  gone  to  cuttin'  up  an'  been  obleeged  to 
take  to  the  bush.  They've  robbed  somebody  an'  are 
puttin'  fer  salt  water.  They'll  hire  a  boat  an'  go  south 
an'  then  p'int  fer  the  'Ganies.  Ol'  Red  Snout  shoved 
his  leg  in  that  'ere  gravel  sometime  this  forenoon 
prob'ly." 

They  brewed  tea  to  wet  their  buttered  biscuit  and 
jerked  venison. 

Solomon  looked  as  if  he  were  sighting  on  a  gun  bar- 
rel when  he  said : 

"Now  ye  see  what's  the  matter  with  this  'ere  Injun 
business.  They're  jest  a  lot  o'  childern  scattered  all 
over  the  bush  an'  they  don't  have  to  look  fer  deviltry. 
Deviltry  is  lookin'  fer  them  an'  when  they  git  together 
thar's  trouble." 

Solomon  stopped,  now  and  then,  to  peer  off  into  the 
bush  as  he  talked  while  the  dusk  was  falling.  Sud- 
denly he  put  his  finger  to  his  lips.  His  keen  eyes  had 
detected  a  movement  in  the  shadowy  trail. 

"Hide  an'  horns  o'  the  devil !"  he  exclaimed  in  a  low 


66      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

tone.  "This  'ere  may  be  suthin'  nee  various.  Shove 
ol*  Marier  this  way  an'  grab  yer  pistols  an'  set  still." 

He  crept  on  his  hands  and  knees  with  the  strap  of 
his  rifle  in  his  teeth  to  the  edge  of  the  bush,  where  he 
sat  for  a  moment  looking  and  listening.  Suddenly 
Solomon  arose  and  went  back  in  the  trail,  indicating 
with  a  movement  of  his  hand  that  the  boy  was  not  to 
follow.  About  fifteen  rods  from  their  camp-fire  he 
found  an  Indian  maiden  sitting  on  the  ground  with 
bowed  head.  A  low  moan  came  from  her  lips.  Her 
skin  was  of  a  light  copper  color.  There  was  a  wreath 
of  wild  flowers  in  her  hair. 

"My  purty  maid,  are  your  people  near?"  Solomon 
asked  in  the  Mohawk  tongue. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  her  beautiful  dark  eyes  full 
of  tears,  and  sorrowfully  shook  her  head. 

"My  father  was  a  great  white  chief,"  she  said.  "Al- 
ways a  little  bird  tells  me  to  love  the  white  man.  The 
beautiful  young  pale  face  on  a  red  horse  took  my  heart 
with  him.  I  go,  too." 

"You  must  go  back  to  your  people,"  said  Solomon. 

Again  she  shook  her  head,  and,  pointing  up  the  trail, 
whispered : 

"They  will  burn  the  Little  White  Birch.  No  more 
will  I  go  in  the  trail  of  the  red  man.  It  is  like  climb- 
ing a  thorn  tree." 

He  touched  her  brow  tenderly  and  she  seized  his 
hand  and  held  it  against  her  cheek. 

"I  follow  the  beautiful  pale  face,"  she  whispered. 


SOWING  THE  DRAGON'S  TEETH         67 

Solomon  observed  that  her  lips  were  fthapely  and  her 
teeth  white. 

" What  is  your  name  ?"  he  asked. 

"They  call  me  the  Little  White  Birch," 

Solomon  told  her  to  sit  still  and  that  he  would  bring 
food  to  her. 

"It's  jest  only  a  little  squaw,"  he  said  to  Jack  when 
he  returned  to  the  camp-fire.  "Follered  us  from  that 
'ere  Injun  village.  I  guess  she  were  skeered  o'  them 
drunken  braves.  I'm  goin'  to  take  some  meat  an'  bread 
an'  tea  to  her.  No,  you  better  stay  here.  She's  as 
skeery  as  a  wild  deer." 

After  Solomon  had  given  her  food  he  made  her  take 
his  coat  for  a  blanket  and  left  her  alone. 

Next  morning  she  was  still  there.  Solomon  gave 
her  food  again  and  when  they  resumed  their  journey 
they  saw  her  following. 

"She'll  go  to  the  end  o'  the  road,  I  guess,"  said  Solo- 
mon. "I'll  tell  ye  what  we'll  do.  We'll  leave  her  at 
Mr.  Wheelock's  School." 

Their  trail  bore  no  further  signs  of  Harpe  and  his 
followers. 

"I'll  bet  ye  a  pint  o'  powder  an'  a  fish  hook  they  was 
p'intin'  south,"  said  Solomon. 

They  reached  the  Indian  school  about  noon.  A 
kinc/Iy  old  Mohawk  squaw  who  worked  there  was  sent 
back  in  the  trail  to  find  the  maiden.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  squaw  came  in  with  her.  Solomon  left  money 
with  the  good  master  and  promised  to  send  more. 


68      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

When  the  travelers  went  on  that  afternoon  the  Lit- 
tle White  Birch  stood  by  the  door  looking  down  the 
road  at  them. 

"She  has  a  coat  o'  red  on  her  skin,  but  the  heart  o' 
the  white  man,"  said  Solomon. 

In  a  moment  Jack  heard  him  muttering,  "It's  a 
damn  wicked  thing  to  do — which  there  ain't  no  mis- 
take." 

They  had  come  to  wagon  roads  improving  as  they 
approached  towns  and  villages,  in  the  first  of  which 
they  began  selling  the  drove.  When  they  reached  Bos- 
ton, nearly  a  week  later,  they  had  only  the  two  horses 
which  they  rode. 

The  trial  had  just  begun.  Being  ardent  Whigs, 
their  testimony  made  an  impression.  Jack's  letter  to 
his  father  says  that  Mr.  Adams  complimented  them 
when  they  left  the  stand. 

There  is  an  old  letter  of  Solomon  Binkus  which 
briefly  describes  the  journey.  He  speaks  of  the 
"pompy"  men  who  examined  them.  "They  grinned  at 
me  all  the  time  an'  the  ol'  big  wig  Jedge  in  the 
womern's  dress  got  mad  if  I  tried  to  crack  a  joke," 
he  wrote  in  his  letter.  "He  looked  like  he  had  paid 
too  much  fer  his  whistle  an'  thought  I  had  sold  it  to 
him.  Thought  he  were  goin*  to  box  my  ears.  John 
Addums  is  erbout  as  sharp  as  a  razor.  Took  a  likirr 
to  Jack  an*  me.  I  tol'  him  he  were  smart  'nough  to 
be  a  trapper." 

The  two  came  back  in  the  saddle  and  reached  Al- 
bany late  in  October. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA 

THE  New  York  Mercury  of  November  4,  1770,  con- 
tains this  item: 

"John  Irons,  Jr.,  and  Solomon  Binkus,  the  famous 
scout,  arrived  Wednesday  morning  on  the  schooner 
Ariel  from  Albany.  Mr.  Binkus  is  on  his  way  to  Alex- 
andria, Virginia,  where  he  is  to  meet  Major  Washing- 
ton and  accompany  him  to  the  Great  Kanawha  River 
in  the  Far  West." 

Solomon  was  soon  to  meet  an  officer  with  whom  he 
was  to  find  the  amplest  scope  for  his  talents.  Jack  was 
on  his  way  to  Philadelphia.  They  had  found  the  ship 
crowded  and  Jack  and  two  other  boys  "pigged  to- 
gether"— in  the  expressive  phrase  of  that  trine — on 
the  cabin  floor,  through  the  two  nights  of  their  jour- 
ney. Jack  minded  not  the  hardness  of  the  floor,  but 
there  was  much  drinking  and  arguing  and  expounding 
of  the  common  law  in  the  forward  end  of  the  cabin, 
which  often  interrupted  his  slumbers. 

He  was  overawed  by  the  length  and  number  of  the 
crowded  streets  of  New  York  and  by  "the  great 
height"  of  many  of  its  buildings.  The  grandeur  of 
Broadway  and  the  fashionable  folk  who  frequented  it 
was  the  subject  of  a  long  letter  which  he  indited  to  his 
mother  from  The  City  Tavern. 

69 


70      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

He  took  the  boat  to  Amboy  as  Benjamin  Franklin 
had  done,  but  without  mishap,  and  thence  traveled  by 
stage  to  Burlington.  There  he  met  Mr.  John  Adams 
of  Boston,  who  was  on  his  way  to  Philadelphia.  He 
was  a  full-faced,  ruddy,  strong-built  man  of  about 
thirty-five  years,  with  thick,  wavy  dark  hair  that  fell 
in  well  trimmed  tufts  on  either  cheek  and  almost  con- 
cealed his  ears.  It  was  beginning  to  show  gray.  He 
had  a  prominent  forehead,  large  blue  and  expressive 
eyes  and  a  voice  clear  and  resonant.  He  was  hand- 
somely dressed. 

Mr.  Adams  greeted  the  boy  warmly  and  told  him 
that  the  testimony  which  he  and  Solomon  Binkus 
gave  had  saved  the  life  of  Captain  Preston.  The  great 
lawyer  took  much  interest  in  the  boy  and  accompanied 
him  to  the  top  of  the  stage,  the  weather  being  clear 
and  warm.  Mr.  Adams  sat  facing  Jack,  and  beside 
the  latter  was  a  slim  man  with  a  small  sad  countenance 
which  wore  a  permanent  look  of  astonishment.  Jack 
says  in  a  letter  that  his  beard  "was  not  composed  of 
hair,  but  hairs  as  straight  and  numerable  as  those  in 
a  cat's  whiskers."  They  were  also  gray  like  his  eyes. 
After  the  stage  had  started  this  man  turned  to  Jack 
and  asked : 

"What  is  your  name,  boy?" 

"John  Irons." 

The  man  opened  his  eyes  wider  and  drew  in  his 
breath  between  parted  lips  as  if  he  had  heard  a  most 
astonishing  fact. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      71 

"My  name  is  Pinhorn,  sir — Eliphalet  Pinhorn,"  he 
reciprocated.  "I  have  been  visiting  my  wife  in  New- 
ark." 

Jack  thought  it  a  singular  thing  that  a  man  should 
have  been  visiting  his  wife. 

"May  I  ask  where  you  are  going?"  the  man  inquired 
of  the  boy. 

"To  Philadelphia." 

Mr.  Pinhorn  turned  toward  him  with  a  look  of 
increased  astonishment  and  demanded : 

"Been  there  before?" 

"Never." 

The  man  made  a  sound  that  was  between  a  sigh  and 
a  groan.  Then,  almost  sternly  and  in  a  confidential 
tone,  as  if  suddenly  impressed  by  the  peril  of  an  im- 
mortal soul,  he  said : 

"Young  man,  beware !    I  say  to  you,  beware !" 

Each  stiff  gray  hair  on  his  chin  seemed  to  erect  it- 
self into  an  animated  exclamation  point.  Turning 
again,  he  whispered : 

"You  will  soon  shake  its  dust  from  your  feet." 

"Why?" 

"A  sinking  place!  Every  one  bankrupt  or  nearly  so. 
Display!  Nothing  but  display!  Feasting,  drinking,1 
No  thought  of  to-morrow!  Ungodly  city!" 

In  concluding  his  indictment,  Mr.  Pinhorn  partly 
covered  his  mouth  and  whispered  the  one  word : 
"Babylon!" 

A    moment    of    silence    followed,    after   which    he 


72       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

added :     "I  would  never  build  a  house  or  risk  a  penny 
in  business  there." 

"I  am  going  to  work  in  Doctor  Benjamin  Franklin's 
print  shop,"  said  Jack  proudly. 

Mr.  Pinhorn  turned  with  a  look  of  consternation 
clearly  indicating  that  this  was  the  last  straw.  He 
warned  in  a  half  whisper : 

"Again  I  say  beware!    That  is  the  word — beware!" 

He  almost  shuddered  as  he  spoke,  and  leaning  close 
to  the  boy's  ear,  added  in  a  confidential  tone : 

"The  King  of  Babylon!  A  sinking  business!  An 
evil  man !"  He  looked  sternly  into  the  eyes  of  the  boy 
and  whispered:  "Very!  Oh,  very!"  He  sat  back  in 
his  seat  again,  while  the  expression  of  his  whole  figure 
seemed  to  say,  "Thank  God,  my  conscience  is  clear, 
whatever  happens  to  you." 

Jack  was  so  taken  down  by  all  this  that,  for  a  mo- 
ment, his  head  swam.  Mr.  Pinhorn  added : 

"Prospered,  but  how?  That  is  the  question.  Took 
the  money  of  a  friend  and  spent  it.  Many  could  tell 
you.  Wine!  Women!  Infidelity!  House  built  on 
the  sands !" 

Mr.  Adams  had  heard  most  of  the  gloomy  talk  of 
the  slim  man.  Suddenly  he  said  to  the  slanderer : 

"My  friend,  did  I  hear  you  say  that  you  have  been 
visiting  your  wife  ?" 

"You  did,  sir." 

"Well,  I  do  not  wonder  that  she  lives  in  another 
part  of  the  country,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "I  should 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      73 

think  that  Philadelphia  would  feel  like  moving  away 
from  you.  I  have  heard  you  say  that  it  was  a  sinking 
city.  It  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  is  floating  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  there  are  human  sinkers  in  it  like  your- 
self. I  hate  the  heart  of  lead.  This  is  the  land  of  hope 
and  faith  and  confidence.  If  you  do  not  like  it  here, 
go  back  to  England.  We  do  not  put  our  money  into 
holes  in  the  wall.  We  lend  it  to  our  neighbors  because 
they  are  worthy  of  being  trusted.  We  believe  in  our 
neighbors.  We  put  our  cash  into  business  and  borrow 
more  to  increase  our  profits.  It  is  true  that  many  men 
in  Philadelphia  are  in  debt,  but  they  are  mostly  good 
for  what  they  owe.  It  is  a  thriving  place.  I  could  not 
help  hearing  you  speak  evil  of  Doctor  Franklin.  He 
is  my  friend.  I  am  proud  to  say  it  and  I  should  be  no 
friend  of  his  if  I  allowed  your  words  to  go  unrebuked. 
Yours,  sir,  is  a  leaden  soul.  It  is  without  hope  or  trust 
in  the  things  of  this  life.  You  seem  not  to  know  that 
a  new  world  is  born.  It  is  a  world  of  three  tenses. 
We  who  really  live  in  it  are  chiefly  interested  in  what 
a  man  is  and  is  likely  to  be,  not  in  what  he  was. 
Doctor  Franklin  would  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  that 
his  youth  was  not  all  it  should  have  been.  He  does 
not  conceal  his  errors.  There  is  no  more  honest 
gentleman  in  the  wide  world  than  Doctor  Franklin." 
Mr.  Adams  had  spoken  with  feeling  and  a  look  of 
indignation  in  his  eyes.  He  was  a  frank,  fearless  char- 
acter. All  who  sat  on  the  top  of  the  coach  had  heard 
him  and  when  he  had  finished  they  clapped  their  hands. 


74      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Jack  was  much  relieved.  He  had  been  put  in  mind 
of  what  Doctor  Franklin  had  said  long  ago,  one  eve- 
ning in  Albany,  of  his  struggle  against  the  faults  and 
follies  of  his  youth.  For  a  moment  Mr.  Pinhorn  was 
dumb  with  astonishment. 

"Nevertheless,  sir,  I  hold  to  my  convictions,"  he 
said. 

"Of  course  you  do,"  Mr.  Adams  answered.  "No 
man  like  you  ever  recovered  from  his  convictions,  for 
the  reason  that  his  convictions  are  stronger  than  he  is." 

Mr.  Pinhorn  partly  covered  his  mouth  and  turned  to 
the  boy  and  whispered : 

"It  is  a  time  of  violent  men.    Let  us  hold  our  peace." 

At  the  next  stop  where  they  halted  for  dinner  Mr. 
Adams  asked  the  boy  to  sit  down  with  him  at  the  table. 
When  they  were  seated  the  great  man  said: 

"I  have  to  be  on  guard  against  catching  fire  these 
days.  Sometimes  I  feel  the  need  of  a  companion  with 
a  fire  bucket.  My  headlight  is  hope  and  I  have  little 
patience  with  these  whispering,  croaking  Tories  and 
with  the  barons  of  the  south  and  the  upper  Hudson.  I 
used  to  hold  the  plow  on  my  father's  farm  and  I  am 
still  plowing  as  your  father  is." 

Jack  turned  with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"We  are  breaking  new  land,"  Mr.  Adams  went  on. 
"We  are  treading  the  ordeal  path  among  the  red-hot 
plowshares  of  politics." 

"It  is  what  I  should  like  to  do,"  said  the  boy. 
"You  will  be  needed,  but  we  must  be  without  fear. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      75 

remembering  that  almost  every  man  who  has  gained 
real  distinction  in  politics  has  met  a  violent  death. 
There  are  the  shining  examples  of  Brutus,  Cassius, 
Hampden  and  Sidney,  but  it  is  worth  while." 

"I  believe  you  taught  school  at  Worcester,"  said 
Jack. 

"And  I  learned  at  least  one  thing  doing  it — that 
school-teaching  is  not  for  me.  It  would  have  turned 
me  into  a  shrub.  Too  much  piddling!  It  is  hard 
enough  to  teach  men  that  they  have  rights  which  even 
a  king  must  respect." 

"Let  me  remind  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pinhorn,  who 
sat  at  the  same  table,  "that  the  King  can  do  no 
wrong." 

"But  his  ministers  can  do  as  they  please,"  Mr. 
Adams  rejoined,  whereat  the  whole  company  broke 
into  laughter. 

Mr.  Pinhorn  covered  his  mouth  with  astonishment, 
but  presently  allowed  himself  to  say:  "Sir,  I  hold  to 
my  convictions." 

"You  are  wrong,  sir.  It  is  your  convictions  that 
hold  to  you.  They  are  like  the  dead  limbs  on  a  tree," 
Mr.  Adams  answered.  "The  motto  of  Great  Britain 
would  seem  to  be,  'Do  no  right  and  suffer  no  wrong.' 
They  search  our  ships ;  they  impress  our  seamen ;  they 
impose  taxes  through  a  Parliament  in  which  we  are 
not  represented,  and  if  we  threaten  resistance  they 
would  have  us  tried  for  treason.  Nero  used  to  say 
that  he  wished  that  the  inhabitants  of  Rome  had  only 


76      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

one  neck,  so  that  he  could  dispose  of  them  with  a 
single  blow.  It  was  a  rather  merciful  wish,  after  all. 
A  neck  had  better  be  chopped  off  than  held  under  the 
yoke  of  tyranny. " 

"Sir,  England  shielded,  protected,  us  from  French 
and  Indians,"  Mr.  Pinhorn  declared  with  high  indig- 
nation. 

"It  protected  its  commerce.  We  were  protecting 
British  interests  and  ourselves.  Connecticut  had  five 
thousand  under  arms ;  Massachusetts,  seven  thousand ; 
New  York,  New  Jersey  and  New  Hampshire,  many 
more.  Massachusetts  taxed  herself  thirteen  shillings 
and  four  pence  to  the  pound  of  income.  New  Jersey 
expended  a  pound  a  head  to  help  pay  for  the  war.  On 
that  score  England  is  our  debtor." 

The  horn  sounded.  The  travelers  arose  from  the 
tables  and  hurried  out  to  the  coach. 

"It  was  a  good  dinner,"  Mr.  Adams  said  to  Jack 
when  they  had  climbed  to  their  seat.  "We  should  be 
eating  potatoes  and  drinking  water,  instead  of  which 
we  have  two  kinds  of  meat  and  wine  and  pudding  and 
bread  and  tea  and  many  jellies.  Still,  I  am  a  better 
philosopher  after  dinner  than  before  it.  But  if  we 
lived  simpler,  we  should  pay  fewer  taxes." 

As  they  rode  along  a  lady  passenger  sang  the  bal- 
lad of  John  Barleycorn,  in  the  chorus  of  which  Mr. 
Adams  joined  with  much  spirit. 

"My  capacity  for  getting  fun  out  of  a  song  is  like 
the  gift  of  a  weasel  for  sucking  eggs,"  he  said. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      77 

So  they  fared  along,  and  when  Jack  was  taking 
leave  of  the  distinguished  lawyer  at  The  Black  Horse 
Tavern  in  Philadelphia  the  latter  invited  the  boy  to 
visit  him  in  Boston  if  his  way  should  lead  him  there. 

2 

The  frank,  fearless,  sledge-hammer  talk  of  the  law- 
yer made  a  deep  impression  on  the  boy,  as  a  long  letter 
written  next  day  to  his  father  and  mother  clearly 
shows.  He  went  to  the  house  of  the  printer,  where  he 
did  not  receive  the  warm  welcome  he  had  expected. 
Deborah  Franklin  was  a  fat,  hard-working,  illiterate, 
economical  housewife.  She  had  a  great  pride  in  her 
husband,  but  had  fallen  hopelessly  behind  him.  She 
regarded  with  awe  and  slight  understanding  the  ac- 
complishments of  his  virile,  restless,  on-pushing  intel- 
lect. She  did  not  know  how  to  enjoy  the  prosperity 
that  had  come  to  them.  It  was  a  neat  and  cleanly 
home,  but,  as  of  old,  Deborah  was  doing  most  of  the 
work  herself.  She  would  not  have  had  it  otherwise. 

"Ben  thinks  we  ortn't  to  be  doin'  nothin'  but  setthY 
eroun'  in  silk  dresses  an'  readin'  books  an'  gabbin' 
with  comp'ny,"  she  said.  "Men  don't  know  how  hard 
'tis  to  git  help  that  cleans  good  an'  cooks  decent.  Ev- 
erybody feels  so  kind  o'  big  an'  inderpendent  they 
won't  stan'  it  to  be  found  fault  with." 

Her  daughter,  Mrs.  Bache,  and  the  latter's  children 
were  there.  Suddenly  confronted  by  the  problem  of 
a  strange  lad  coming  into  the  house  to  live  with  them, 
they  were  a  bit  dismayed.  But  presently  their  motherly 


78      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

hearts  were  touched  by  the  look  of  the  big,  gentle- 
faced,  homesick  boy.  They  made  a  room  ready  for 
him  on  the  top  floor  and  showed  him  the  wonders  of 
the  big  house — the  library,  the  electrical  apparatus,  the 
rocking  chair  with  its  fan  swayed  by  the  movement  of 
the  chair,  the  new  stove  and  grate  which  the  Doctor 
had  invented.  That  evening,  after  an  excellent  supper, 
they  sat  down  for  a  visit  in  the  library,  when  Jack 
suggested  that  he  would  like  to  have  a  part  of  the 
work  to  do. 

"I  can  sweep  and  clean  as  well  as  any  one,"  he  said. 
"My  mother  taught  me  how  to  do  that.  You  must 
call  on  me  for  any  help  you  need." 

"Now  I  wouldn't  wonder  but  what  we'll  git  erlong 
real  happy,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin.  "If  you'll  git  up 
'arly  an'  dust  the  main  floor  an'  do  the  broom  work 
an'  fill  the  wood  boxes  an'  fetch  water,  I'll  see  ye  don't 
go  hungry." 

"I  suppose  you  will  be  going  to  England  if  the  Doc- 
tor is  detained  there,"  said  Jack. 

"No,  sir,"  Mrs.  Franklin  answered.  "I  wouldn't 
go  out  on  that  ol'  ocean — not  if  ye  would  give  me  a 
million  pounds.  It's  too  big  an'  deep  an'  awful !  No, 
sir !  Ben  got  a  big  bishop  to  write  me  a  letter  an'  tell 
me  I'd  better  come  over  an'  look  a'ter  him.  But  Ben 
knowed  all  the  time  that  I  wouldn't  go  a  step." 

There  were  those  who  said  that  her  dread  of  the 
sea  had  been  a  blessing  to  Ben,  for  Mrs.  Franklin  had 
no  graces  and  little  gift  for  communication.  But  there 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      79 

was  no  more  honest,  hard-working,  economical  house- 
wife in  Philadelphia. 

Jack  went  to  the  shop  and  was  put  10  work  next 
morning.  He  had  to  carry  beer  and  suffer  a  lot  of 
humiliating  imposition  from  older  boys  in  the  big  shop, 
but  he  bore  it  patiently  and  made  friends  and  good 
progress.  That  winter  he  took  dancing  lessons  from 
the  famous  John  Trotter  of  New  York  and  practised 
fencing  with  the  well-known  Master  Brissac.  He  also 
took  a  course  in  geometry  and  trigonometry  at  the 
Academy  and  wrote  an  article  describing  his  trip  to 
Boston  for  The  Gazette.  The  latter  was  warmly 
praised  by  the  editor  and  reprinted  in  New  York  and 
Boston  journals.  He  joined  the  company  for  home 
defense  and  excelled  in  the  games,  on  training  day, 
especially  at  the  running,  wrestling,  boxing  and  target 
shooting.  There  were  many  shooting  galleries  in 
Philadelphia  wherein  Jack  had  shown  a  knack  of 
shooting  with  the  rifle  and  pistol,  which  had  won  for 
him  the  Franklin  medal  for  marksmanship.  In  the 
back  country  the  favorite  amusement  of  himself  and 
father  had  been  shooting  at  a  mark. 

Somehow  the  boy  managed  to  do  a  great  deal  of 
work  and  to  find  time  for  tramping  in  the  woods  along 
the  Schuylkill  and  for  skating  and  swimming  with  the 
other  boys.  Mrs.  Franklin  and  Mrs.  Bache  grew 
fond  of  Jack  and  before  the  new  year  came  had 
begun  to  treat  him  with  a  kind  of  motherly  affection. 

William,  the  Doctor's  son,  who  was  the  governor 


80      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

of  the  province  of  New  Jersey,  came  to  the  house  at 
Christmas  time.  He  was  a  silent,  morose,  dignified, 
self-seeking  man,  who  astonished  Jack  with  his  rabid 
Toryism.  He  nettled  the  boy  by  treating  the  opinions 
of  the  latter  with  smiling  toleration  and  by  calling  his 
own  father — the  great  Doctor — "a  misguided  man." 

Jack  forged  ahead,  not  only  in  the  printer's  art,  but 
on  toward  the  fulness  of  his  strength.  Under  the 
stimulation  of  city  life  and  continuous  study,  his  tal- 
ents grew  like  wheat  in  black  soil.  In  the  summer  of 
'seventy-three  he  began  to  contribute  to  the  columns  of 
The  Gazette.  Certain  of  his  articles  brought  him  com- 
pliments from  the  best  people  for  their. wit,  penetration 
and  good  humor.  He  had  entered  upon  a  career  of 
great  promise  when  the  current  of  his  life  quickened 
like  that  of  a  river  come  to  a  steeper  grade.  It  began 
with  a  letter  from  Margaret  Hare,  dated  July  14,  1773. 
In  it  she  writes : 

"When  you  get  this  please  sit  down  and  count  up 
the  years  that  have  passed  since  we  parted.  Then 
think  how  our  plans  have  gone  awry.  You  must  also 
think  of  me  waiting  here  for  you  in  the  midst  of  a 
marrying  world.  All  my  friends  have  taken  their 
mates  and  passed  on.  I  went  to  Doctor  Franklin 
to-day  and  told  him  that  I  was  an  old  lady  well  past 
nineteen  and  accused  him  of  having  a  heart  of  stone. 
He  said  that  he  had  not  sent  for  you  because  you  were 
making  such  handsome  progress  in  your  work.  I 
said :  'You  do  not  think  of  the  rapid  progress  I  am 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      81 

making  toward  old  age.  You  forget,  too,  that  I  need 
a  husband  as  badly  as  The  Gazette  needs  a  philosopher. 
I  rebel.  You  have  made  me  an  American — you  and 
Jack.  I  will  no  longer  consent  to  taxation  without 
representation.  Year  by  year  I  am  giving  up  some 
of  my  youth  and  I  am  not  being  consulted  about  it.' 

"Said  he :  'I  would  demand  justice  of  the  king.  I 
suppose  he  thinks  that  his  country  can  not  yet  afford  a 
queen.  I  shall  tell  him  that  he  is  imitating  George  the 
Third  and  that  he  had  better  listen  to  the  voice  of  the 
people/ 

"Now,  my  beloved  hero,  the  English  girl  who  is  not 
married  at  nineteen  is  thought  to  be  hopeless.  There 
are  fine  lads  who  have  asked  my  father  for  the  right  to 
court  me  and  still  I  am  waiting  for  my  brave  deliverer 
and  he  comes  not.  I  can  not  forget  the  thrush's  song 
and  the  enchanted  woods.  They  hold  me.  If  they 
have  not  held  you — if  for  any  reason  your  heart  has 
changed — you  will  not  fail  to  tell  me,  will  you?  Is 
it  necessary  that  you  should  be  great  and  wise  and  rich 
and  learned  before  you  come  to  me?  Little  by  little, 
after  many  talks  with  the  venerable  Franklin,  I  have 
got  the  American  notion  that  I  would  like  to  go  away 
with  you  and  help  you  to  accomplish  these  things  and 
enjoy  the  happiness  which  was  ours,  for  a  little  time, 
and  of  which  you  speak  in  your  letters.  Surely  there 
was  something  very  great  in  those  moments.  It  does 
not  fade  and  has  it  not  kept  us  true  to  their  promise? 
But,  Jack,  how  long  am  I  to  wait  ?  You  must  tell  me." 


82      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

This  letter  went  to  the  heart  of  the  young  man. 
She  had  deftly  set  before  him  the  gross  unfairness  of 
delay.  He  felt  it.  Ever  since  the  parting  he  had  been 
eager  to  go,  but  his  father  was  not  a  rich  man  and  the 
family  was  large.  His  own  salary  had  been  little  more 
than  was  needed  for  clothing  and  books.  That  autumn 
it  had  been  doubled  and  the  editor  had  assured  him  that 
higher  pay  would  be  forthcoming.  He  hesitated  to  tell 
the  girl  how  little  he  earned  and  how  small,  when  meas- 
ured in  money,  his  progress  had  seemed  *o  be.  He 
was  in  despair  when  his  friend  Solomon  Binkus  ar- 
rived from  Virginia.  For  two  years  the  latter  had 
been  looking  after  the  interests  of  Major  Washington 
out  in  the  Ohio  River  country.  They  Ained  together 
that  evening  at  The  Crooked  Billet  and  Solomon  told 
him  of  his  adventures  in  the  West,  and  frontier 
stories  of  the  notorious,  one-legged  robber,  Micah 
Harpe,  and  his  den  on  the  shore  of  the  Ohio  and  of 
the  cunning  of  the  outlaw  in  evading  capture. 

"I  got  his  partner,  Mike  Fink,  and  Major  Washing- 
ton give  me  fifty  pounds  for  the  job,"  said  Solomon. 
"They  say  Harpe' s  son  disappeared  long  time  ago  an' 
I  wouldn't  wonder  if  you  an'  me  had  seen  him  do  it." 

"The  white  man  that  hung  back  in  the  bushes  so 
long?  I'll  never  forget  him,"  said  Jack. 

"Them  wimmen  couldn't  'a'  been  in  wuss  hands." 

"It  was  a  lucky  day  for  them  and  for  me,"  Jack  an- 
swered. "I  have  here  a  letter  from  Margaret.  I  wish 
you  would  read  it." 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA     83 

Solomon  read  the  girl's  letter  and  said: 

"If  I  was  you  I'd  swim  the  big  pond  if  nec'sary. 
This  'ere  is  a  real  simon  pure,  four-masted  womern 
an'  she  wants  you  f er  Captain.  As  the  feller  said  when 
he  seen  a  black  fox,  "Come  on,  boys,  it's  time  fer  to 
wear  out  yer  boots/  ' 

"I'm  tied  to  my  job." 

"Then  break  yer  halter,"  said  Solomon.  - 

"I  haven't  money  enough  to  get  married  and  keep  a 
wife." 

"What  an  ignorant  cuss  you  be!"  Solomon  ex- 
claimed. "You  don't  'pear  to  know  when  ye're  well 
off." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  ye're  wuth  at  least  a  thousan'  pounds 
cash  money." 

"I  would  not  ask  my  father  for  help  and  I  have  only 
forty  pounds  in  the  bank,"  Jack  answered. 

Solomon  took  out  his  wallet  and  removed  from  it  a 
worn  and  soiled  piece  of  paper  and  studied  the  memo- 
randa it  contained.  Then  he  did  some  ciphering  with 
a  piece  of  lead.  In  a  moment  he  said : 

"You  have  got  a  thousan'  an'  fifteen  pounds  an'  six 
shillin'  fer  to  do  with  as  ye  please  an'  no  questions 
asked — nary  one." 

"You  mean  you've  got  it." 

"Which  means  that  Jack  Irons  owns  it  hide,  horns 
an'  taller." 

Tears  came  to  tfie  boy's  eyes.    He  looked  down  for 


84      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

a  moment  without  speaking.  'Thank  you,  Solomon," 
he  said  presently.  "I  can't  use  your  money.  It 
wouldn't  be  right." 

Solomon  shut  one  eye  an'  squinted  with  the  other  as 
if  he  were  taking  aim  along  the  top  of  a  gun  barrel. 
Then  he  shook  his  head  and  drawled : 

"Cat's  blood  an'  gunpowder !  That  'ere  slaps  me  in 
the  face  an.'  kicks  me  on  the  shin,"  Solomon  answered. 
"I've  walked  an'  paddled  eighty  mile  in  a  day  an'  been 
stabbed  an'  shot  at  an'  had  to  run  fer  my  life,  which  it 
ain't  no  fun — you  hear  to  me.  Who  do  ye  s'pose  I 
done  it  fer  but  you  an'  my  kentry  ?  There  ain't  nobody 
o'  my  name  an'  blood  on  this  side  o'  the  ocean — not 
nobody  at  all.  An'  if  I  kin't  work  fer  you,  Jack,  I'd 
just  erbout  as  soon  quit.  This  'ere  money  ain't  no 
good  to  me  'cept  fer  body  cover  an'  powder  an'  balls. 
I'd  as  leave  drop  it  in  the  river.  It  bothers  me.  I  don't 
need  it.  When  I  git  hum  I  go  an'  hide  it  in  the  bush 
somewhars — jest  to  git  it  out  o'  my  way.  I  been 
thinkin'  all  up  the  road  from  Virginny  o'  this  'ere  gol 
demnable  money  an'  what  I  were  a-goin'  to  do  Avith  it 
an'  what  it  could  do  to  me.  An',  sez  I,  I'm  ergoin'  to 
ask  Jack  to  take  it  an'  use  it  fer  a  wall  'twixt  him  an' 
trouble,  an'  the  idee  hurried  me  erlong — honest !  Kind 
o'  made  me  happy.  Course,  if  I  had  a  wife  an'  chil- 
dern,  'twould  be  different,  but  I  ain't  got  no  one.  An' 
now  ye  tell  me  ye  don't  want  it,  which  it  makes  me  feel 
lonesomer  'n  a  tarred  Tory  an'  kind  o'  sorrowful — * 
ayes,  sir,  it  does." 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA     85 

Solomon's  voice  sank  to  a  whisper. 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Jack.  "I  didn't  know  you  felt 
that  way.  But  I'm  glad  you  do.  I'll  take  it  on  the  un- 
derstanding that  as  long  as  I  live  what  I  have  shall 
also  be  yours." 

"I've  two  hundred  poun'  an'  six  shillin'  in  my  pocket 
an'  a  lot  more  hid  in  the  bush.  It's  all  yourn  to  the 
last  round  penny.  I  reckon  it'll  purty  nigh  bridge  the 
slough.  I  want  ye  to  be  married  respectable  like  a  gen- 
tleman— slick  duds,  plenty  o'  cakes  an'  pies  an'  no 
slightin'  the  minister  er  the  rum  bar'l. 

"Major  Washington  give  me  a  letter  to  take  to  Ben 
Franklin  on  t'other  side  o'  the  ocean.  Ye  see  ev'ry 
letter  that's  sent  ercrost  is  opened  an'  read  afore  it  gits 
to  him  lessen  it's  guarded  keerful.  This  'ere  one,  I 
guess,  has  suthin'  powerful  secret  in  it.  He  pays  all 
the  bills.  So  I'll  be  goin'  erlong  with  ye  on  the  nex' 
ship  an'  when  we  git  thar  I  want  to  shake  hands  with 
the  gal  and  tell  her  how  to  make  ye  behave." 

That  evening  Jack  went  to  the  manager  of  The 
Gazette  and  asked  for  a  six  months'  leave  of  ab- 
sence. 

"And  why  would  ye  be  leaving?"  asked  the  man- 
ager, a  braw  Scot. 

"I  expect  to  be  married." 

"In  England?" 

"Yes." 

"I'll  agree  if  the  winsome,  wee  thing  will  give  ye 
time  to  send  us  news  letters  from  London.  Doctor 


86      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Franklin  could  give  ye  help.  He  has  been  boiling 
over  with  praise  o'  you  and  has  asked  me  to  broach  the 
matter.  Ye'll  be  sailing  on  the  next  ship." 

Before  there  was  any  sailing  Jack  and  Solomon  had 
time  to  go  to  Albany  for  a  visit.  They  found  the  fam- 
ily well  and  prosperous,  the  town  growing.  John 
Irons  said  that  land  near  the  city  was  increasing  rap- 
idly in  value.  Solomon  went  away  into  the  woods  the 
morning  of  their  arrival  and  returned  in  the  afternoon 
with  his  money,  which  he  gave  to  John  Irons  to  be 
invested  in  land.  Jack,  having  had  a  delightful  stay  at 
home,  took  a  schooner  for  New  York  that  evening 
with  Solomon. 

The  night  before  they  sailed  for  England  his  friends 
in  the  craft  gave  Jack  a  dinner  at  The  Gray  Goose 
Tavern.  He  describes  the  event  in  a  long  letter.  To 
his  astonishment  the  mayor  and  other  well-known  men 
were  present  and  expressed  their  admiration  for  his 
talents. 

The  table  was  spread  with  broiled  fish  and  roasted 
fowls  and  mutton  and  towering  spiced  hams  and  sweet 
potatoes  and  mince  pies  and  cakes  and  jellies. 

"The  spirit  of  hospitality  expresses  itself  here  in 
ham — often,  also,  in  fowls,  fish  and  mutton,  but  always 
and  chiefly  in  ham — cooked  and  decorated  with  the 
greatest  care  and  surrounded  by  forms,  flavors  and 
colors  calculated  to  please  the  eye  and  fill  the  human 
system  with  a  deep,  enduring  and  memorable  satisfac- 
tion," he  writes. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA      87 

In  the  midst  of  the  festivities  it  was  announced  that 
Jack  was  to  be  married  and  as  was  the  custom  of  the 
time,  every  man  at  the  table  proposed  a  toast  and  drank 
to  it.  One  addressed  himself  to  the  eyes  of  the  for- 
tunate young  lady.  Then  her  lips,  her  eyebrows,  her 
neck,  her  hands,  her  feet,  her  disposition  and  her  fu- 
ture husband  were  each  in  turn  enthusiastically  toasted 
by  other  guests  in  bumpers  of  French  wine.  He  adds 
that  these  compliments  were  "so  moist  and  numerous 
that  they  became  more  and  more  indistinct,  noisy  and 
irrational"  and  that  before  they  ended  "Nearly  every 
one  stood  up  singing  his  own  favorite  song.  There 
is  a  stage  of  emotion  which  can  only  be  expressed  in 
noises.  That  stage  had  been  reached.  They  put  me 
in  mind  of  David  Culver's  bird  shop  where  many  song 
birds — all  of  a  different  feather — engage  in  a  kind 
of  tournament,  each  pouring  out  his  soul  with  a  desper- 
ate determination  to  be  heard.  It  was  all  very  friendly 
and  good  natured  but  it  was,  also,  very  wild." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    CROSSING 

THERE  were  curious  events  in  the  voyage  of  Jack 
and  Solomon.  The  date  of  the  letter  above  referred 
to  would  indicate  that  they  sailed  on  or  about  the 
eleventh  of  October,  1773.  Their  ship  was  The  Snow 
which  had  arrived  the  week  before  with  some  fifty 
Irish  servants,  indentured  for  their  passage.  These 
latter  were,  in  a  sense,  slaves  placed  in  bondage  to 
sundry  employers  by  the  captain  of  the  ship  for  a  term 
of  years  until  the  sum  due  to  the  owners  for  their 
transportation  had  been  paid — a  sum  far  too  large, 
it  would  seem. 

Jack  was  sick  for  a  number  of  days  after  the  voy- 
age began  but  Solomon,  who  was  up  and  about  and 
cheerful  in  the  roughest  weather,  having  spent  a  part 
of  his  youth  at  sea,  took  care  of  his  young  friend. 
Jack  tells  in  a  letter  that  he  was  often  awakened  in  the 
night  by  vermin  and  every  morning  by  the  crowing  of 
cocks.  Those  days  a  part  of  every  ship  was  known  as 
"the  hen  coops"  where  ducks,  geese  and  chickens  were 
confined.  They  came  in  due  time  through  the  butcher 
shop  and  the  galley  to  the  cabin  table.  The  cook  was 
an  able,  swearing  man  whose  culinary  experience  had 
been  acquired  on  a  Nantucket  whaler.  Cooks  who 
could  stand  up  for  service  every  day  in  a  small  ship 


THE  CROSSING  89 

on  an  angry  sea  when  the  galley  rattled  like  a  dice  box 
in  the  hands  of  a  nervous  player,  were  hard  to  get. 
Their  constitutions  were  apt  to  be  better  than  their  art. 
The  food  was  of  poor  quality,  the  cooking  a  tax  upon 
jaw,  palate  and  digestion,  the  service  unclean.  When 
good  weather  came,  by  and  by,  and  those 'who  had  not 
tasted  food  for  days  began  to  feel  the  pangs  of  hunger 
the  ship  was  filled  with  a  most  passionate  lot  of  pil- 
grims. It  was  then  that  Solomon  presented  the  peti- 
tion of  the  passengers  to  the  captain. 

"Cap'n,  we're  'bout  wore  out  with  whale  meat  an' 
slobgollion.     We're  all  down  by  the  head." 

"So'm  I,"  said  the  Captain.  "This  'ere  man  had  a 
good  recommend  an'  said  he  could  cook  perfect." 

"A  man  like  that  kin  cook  the  passengers  with  their 
own  heat,"  said  Solomon.  "I  feel  like  my  belly  was 
full  o'  hot  rocks.  If  you'll  let  me  into  the  galley,  I'll 
right  ye  up  an'  shift  the  way  o'  the  wind  an'  the  course 
o'  the  ship.  I'll  swing  the  bow  toward  Heaven  'stead 
o'  Hell  an'  keep  her  p'inted  straight  an'  it  won't  cost 
ye  a  penny.  They's  too  much  swearin'  on  this  'ere  ship. 
Can't  nobody  be  a  Christian  with  his  guts  a-b'ilin'.  His 
tongue'll  break  loose  an'  make  his  soul  look  like  a 
waggin  with  a  smashed  wheel  an'  a  bu'sted  ex.  A  cook 
could  do  more  good  here  than  a  minister." 

"Can  you  cook  ?" 

"You  try  me  an'  I'll  agree  to  happy  ye  up  so  ye 
won't  know  yerself.  Yer  meat  won't  be  raw  ner  petri- 
fied an'  there  won't  be  no  insecks  in  the  biscuit." 


90      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"He'll  make  a  row." 

"I  hope  so.  Leave  him  to  me.  I'm  a  leetle  bit  in 
need  o'  exercise,  but  ye  needn't  worry.  I  know  how 
to  manage  him — perfect.  You  come  with  me  to  the 
galley  an'  tell  him  to  git  out  of  it.  I'll  do  the  rest." 

Solomon's  advice  was  complied  with.  The  cook — 
Thomas  Crowpot  by  name — was  ordered  out  of  the 
galley.  The  sea  cook  is  said  to  be  the  father  of  pro- 
fanity. His  reputation  has  come  down  through  the 
ages  untarnished,  it  would  seem,  by  any  example  of 
philosophical  moderation.  Perhaps  it  is  because,  in 
the  old  days,  his  calling  was  a  hard  one  and  only  those 
of  a  singular  recklessness  were  willing  to  engage  in  it. 
The  Snow's  cook  was  no  exception.  He  was  a  big, 
brawny,  black  Yankee  with  a  claw  foot  look  in  his 
eyes.  Profanity  whizzed  through  the  open  door  like 
buckshot  from  a  musket.  He  had  been  engaged  for 
the  voyage  and  would  not  give  up  his  job  to  any  man. 

"Don't  be  so  snappish,"  said  Solomon.  Turning  to 
the  Captain  he  added :  "Don't  ye  see  here's  the  big 
spring.  This  'ere  man  could  blister  a  bull's  heel  by 
talkin'  to  it.  He's  hidin'  his  candle.  This  ain't  no 
job  fer  him.  I  say  he  orto  be  promoted." 

With  an  outburst  still  profane  but  distinctly  milder 
the  cook  wished  to  know  what  they  meant. 

Solomon  squinted  with  his  rifle  eye  as  if  he  were 
taking  careful  aim  at  a  small  mark. 

"Why,  ye  see  we  passengers  have  been  swearin' 
stiddy  fer  a  week,"  he  drawled.  "We're  wore  out. 


THE  CROSSING  9* 

We  need  a  rest.  You're  a  trained  swearer.  Ye  do  it 
perfect  Ye  ortn't  to  have  nothin'  else  to  do.  We 
want  you  to  go  for'ard  an'  find  a  comf'table  place  an' 
set  down  an'  do  all  the  swearin'  f er  the  hull  ship  from 
now  on.  You'll  git  yer  pay  jest  the  same  as  if  ye  done 
the  cookin'.  It's  a  big  job  but  I  guess  ye' re  ekal  to  it. 
I'll  agree  that  they  won't  nobody  try  to  .grab  it.  Ye 
may  have  a  little  help  afore  the  mast  but  none  abaft." 

This  unexpected  proposition  calmed  the  cook.  The 
prospect  of  full  pay  and  nothing  to  do  pleased  him. 
He  surrendered. 

An  excellent  dinner  was  cooked  and  served  that  day. 
The  lobscouse  made  of  pork,  fowl  and  sliced  potatoes 
was  a  dish  to  remember.  But  the  former  cook  got  a 
line  of  food  calculated  to  assist  him  in  the  performance 
of  his  singular  duty.  Happiness  returned  to  the  ship 
and  Solomon  was  cheered  when  at  length  he  came  out 
of  the  galley.  Officers  and  passengers  rendered  him 
more  homage  after  that  than  they  paid  to  the  rich  and 
famous  Mr.  Girard  who  was  among  their  number. 
That  day  this  notice  was  written  on  the  blackboard : 

"Thomas  Crowpot  has  been  engaged  to  do  all  the 
swearing  that's  necessary  on  this  voyage.  Any  one 
who  needs  his  services  will  find  him  on  the  forward 
deck.  Small  and  large  jobs  will  be  attended  to  while 
you  wait." 

2 

Often  in  calm  weather  Jack  and  Solomon  amused 
themselves  and  the  other  passengers  with  pistol  prao 


92       IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

tise  by  tossing  small  objects  into  the  air  and  shooting 
at  them  over  the  ship's  side.  They  rarely  missed  even 
the  smallest  object  thrown.  Jack  was  voted  the  best 
marksman  of  the  two  when  he  crushed  with  his  bullet 
four  black  walnuts  out  of  five  thrown  by  Mr.  Girard. 

In  the  course  of  the  voyage  they  overhauled  The 
Star,  a  four-masted  ship  bound  from  New  York  to 
Dover.  For  hours  the  two  vessels  were  so  close  that 
the  passengers  engaged  in  a  kind  of  battle.  Those  on 
The  Star  began  it  by  hurling  turnips  at  the  men  on  the 
other  ship  who  responded  with  a  volley  of  apples. 
Solomon  discerned  on  the  deck  of  the  stranger  Captain 
Preston  and  an  English  officer  of  the  name  of  Hawk 
whom  he  had  known  at  Oswego  and  hailed  them.  Then 
said  Solomon  : 

"It's  a  ship  load  o'  Tories  who've  had  enough  of 
Ameriky.  They's  a  cuss  on  that  tub  that  I  helped  put 
a  coat  o'  tar  an'  feathers  on  in  the  Ohio  kentry.  He's 
the  one  with  the  black  pipe  in  his  mouth.  I  don't  know 
his  name  but  they  use  to  call  him  Slops — the  dirtiest, 
low-downdest,  damn  Tory  traitor  that  ever  lived. 
Helped  the  Injuns  out  thar  in  the  West.  See  that  'ere 
black  pipe?  Allus  carries  it  in  his  mouth  'cept  when 
he's  eatin'.  I  guess  he  goes  to  sleep  with  it.  It's  one 
o'  the  features  o'  his  face.  We  tarred  him  plenty  now 
you  hear  to  me." 

That  evening  a  boat  was  lowered  and  the  Captain 
of  The  Snozv  crossed  a  hundred  yards  of  quiet  sea  to 
dine  with  the  Captain  of  The  Star  in  the  cabin  of  the 


THE  CROSSING  93 

latter.  Next  day  a  stiff  wind  came  out  of  the  west. 
All  sail  was  spread,  the  ships  began  to  jump  and  gore 
the  waves  and  The  Star  ran  away  from  the  smaller 
ship  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  Weeks  of  rough 
going  followed.  Meanwhile  Solomon  stuck  to  his  task. 
Every  one  was  sick  but  Jack  and  the  officers,  and  there 
was  not  much  cooking  to  be  done. 

Because  he  had  to  take  off  his  coat  while  he  was 
working  in  the  galley,  Solomon  gave  the  precious 
letter  into  Jack's  keeping. 

Near  the  end  of  the  sixth  week  at  sea  they  spied 
land. 

"We  cheered,  for  the  ocean  had  shown  us  a  tiger's 
heart,"  the  young  man  wrote.  "For  weeks  it  had 
leaped  and  struck  at  us  and  tumbled  us  about.  The 
crossing  is  more  like  hardship  than  anything  that  has 
happened  to  me.  One  woman  died  and  was  buried  at 
sea.  A  man  had  his  leg  broken  by  being  thrown  vio- 
lently against  the  bulwarks  and  the  best  of  us  were 
bumped  a  little. 

"Some  days  ago  a  New  Yorker  who  was  suspected 
of  cheating  at  cards  on  the  complaint  of  several  pas- 
sengers was  put  on  trial  and  convicted  through  the  evi- 
dence of  one  who  had  seen  him  marking  a  pack  of  the 
ship's  cards.  He  was  condemned  to  be  carried  up  to 
the  round  top  and  made  fast  there,  in  view  of  all  the 
ship's  company  for  three  hours  and  to  pay  a  fine  of 
two  bottles  of  brandy.  Pie  refused  to  pay  his  fine  and 
we  excommunicated  the  culprit  refusing  either  to  eat, 


94      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

drink  or  speak  with  him  until  he  should  submit.  To- 
day he  gave  up  and  paid  his  fine.  Man  is  a  sociable 
being  and  the  bitterest  of  all  punishments  is  exclu- 
sion. He  couldn't  stand  it." 

About  noon  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  November  they 
made  Dover  and  anchored  in  the  Downs.  Deal  was 
about  three  miles  away  and  its  boats  came  off  for  them. 
They  made  a  circuit  and  sailed  close  in  shore.  Each 
boat  that  went  out  for  passengers  had  its  own  landing. 
Its  men  threw  a  rope  across  the  breakers.  This  was 
quickly  put  on  a  windlass.  With  the  rope  winding  on 
its  windlass  the  boat  was  slowly  hauled  through  the 
surge,  its  occupants  being  drenched  and  sprinkled  with 
salt  water.  They  made  their  way  to  the  inn  of  The 
Three  Kings  where  two  men  stood  watching  as  they 
approached.  One  of  them  Jack  recognized  as  the  man 
Slops  with  the  black  pipe. in  his  mouth. 

"That's  him,"  said  the  man  with  the  black  pipe 
pointing  at  Solomon,  whereupon  the  latter  was 
promptly  arrested. 

"What  have  I  done?"  he  asked. 

"You'll  learn  directly  at  'eadquarters,"  said  the 
officer. 

Solomon  shook  hands  with  Jack  and  said:  "I'm 
glad  I  met  ye,"  and  turned  and  walked  away  with  the 
two  men. 

Jack  was  tempted  to  follow  them  but  feeling  a  hid- 
den purpose  in  Solomon's  conduct  went  into  the  inn. 

So  the  friends  parted,  Jack  being  puzzled  and  dis- 


THE  CROSSING  95 

tressed  by  the  swift  change  in  the  color  of  their  af- 
fairs. The  letter  to  Doctor  Franklin  was  in  his  pocket 
— a  lucky  circumstance.  He  decided  to  go  to  London 
and  deliver  the  letter  and  seek  advice  regarding  the 
relief  of  Solomon.  At  the  desk  in  the  lobby  of  The 
Three  Kings  he  learned  that  he  must  take  the  post 
chaise  for  Canterbury  which  would  not  be  leaving 
until  six  p.  M.  This  gave  him  time  to  take  counsel  in 
behalf  of  his  friend.  Turning  toward  the  door  he  met 
Captain  Preston,  who  greeted  him  with  great  warmth 
and  wished  to  know  where  was  Major  Binkus. 

Jack  told  the  Captain  of  the  arrest  of  his  friend. 

"I  expected  it,"  said  Preston.  "So  I  have  waited 
here  for  your  ship.  It's  that  mongrel  chap  on  The 
Star  who  got  a  tarring  from  Binkus  and  his  friends. 
He  saw  Binkus  on  your  deck,  as  I  did,  and  proclaimed 
his  purpose.  So  I  am  here  'to  do  what  I  can  to  help 
you.  I  can  not  forget  that  you  two  men  saved  my 
life.  Are  there  any  papers  on  his  person  which  are 
likely  to  make  him  trouble  ?" 

"No,"  said  Jack,  thinking  of  the  letter  lying  safely 
in  his  own  pocket. 

"That's  the  important  thing,"  Preston  resumed. 
"Binkus  is  a  famous  scout  who  is  known  to  be  anti- 
British.  Such  a  man  coming  here  is  supposed  to  be 
carrying  papers.  Between  ourselves  they  would  arrest 
him  on  any  pretext.  You  leave  this  matter  in  my 
hands.  If  he  had  no  papers  he'll  be  coming  on  in  a 
day  or  two." 


96      IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I'd  like  to  go  with  you  to  find  him,"  said  Jack. 

"Better  not,"  Preston  answered  with  a  smile. 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  suspect  you  have  the  papers.  They'll  get 
you,  too,  if  they  learn  you  are  his  friend.  Keep  away 
from  him.  Sit  quietly  here  in  the  inn  until  the  post 
chaise  starts  for  Canterbury.  Don't  let  any  one  pick 
a  quarrel  with  you  and  remember  this  is  all  a  sacred 
confidence  between  friends." 

"I  thank  you  and  my  heart  is  in  every  word,"  said 
Jack  as  he  pressed  the  hand  of  the  Captain.  "After  all 
friendship  is  a  thing  above  politics — even  the  politics 
of  these  bitter  days." 

3 

He  sat  down  with  a  sense  of  relief  and  spent  the  resi 
of  the  afternoon  reading  the  London  papers  although 
he  longed  to  go  and  look  at  the  fortress  of  Deal  Castle. 
He  had  tea  at  five  and  set  out  on  the  mail  carriage, 
with  his  box  and  bag,  an  hour  later.  The  road  was 
rough  and  muddy  with  deep  holes  in  it.  At  one  point 
the  chaise  rattled  and  bumped  over  a  plowed  field. 
Before  dark  he  saw  a  man  hanging  in  a  gibbet  by  the 
roadside.  At  ten  o'clock  they  passed  the  huge  gate  of 
Canterbury  and  drew  up  at  an  inn  called  The  King's 
Head.  The  landlady  and  two  waiters  attended  for 
orders.  He  had  some  supper  and  went  ;o  bed.  Awak- 
ened at  five  A.  M.  by  the  sound  of  a  bugle  he  arose  and 
dressed  hurriedly  and  found  the  post  chaise  waiting. 
They  went  on  the  King's  Road  from  Canterbury  and 


THE  CROSSING  97 

a  mile  out  they  came  to  a  big,  white  gate  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  early  morning. 

A  young  man  clapped  his  mouth  to  the  window  and 
shouted : 

"Sixpence,  Yer  Honor!" 

It  was  a  real  turnpike  and  Jack  stuck  his  head  out 
of  the  window  for  a  look  at  it.  They  stopped  for 
breakfast  at  an  inn  far  down  the  pike  and  went  on 
through  Sittingborn,  Faversham,  Rochester  and  the 
lovely  valley  of  the  River  Medway  of  which  Jack  had 
read. 

At  every  stop  it  amused  him  to  hear  the  words 
"Chaise  an'  pair,"  flying  from  host  to  waiter  and 
waiter  to  hostler  and  back  in  the  wink  of  an  eye. 

Jack  spent  the  night  at  The  Rose  in  Dart  ford  and 
went  on  next  morning  over  Gadshill  and  Shootershill 
and  Blackheath.  Then  the  Thames  and  Greenwich 
and  Deptfort  from  which  he  could  see  the  crowds  and 
domes  and  towers  of  the  big  city.  A  little  past  two 
o'clock  he  rode  over  London  bridge  and  was  set  down 
at  The  Spread  Eagle  where  he  paid  a  shilling  a  mile 
for  his  passage  and  ate  his  dinner. 

Such,  those  days,  was  the  crossing  and  the  trip  up 
to  London,  as  Jack  describes  it  in  his  letters. 


CHAPTER  V 

JACK  SEES  LONDON  AND  THE  GREAT  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  stir  and  prodigious  reach  of  London  had  ap- 
palled the  young  man.  His  fancy  had  built  and  peo- 
pled it,  but  having  found  no  sufficient  material  for  its 
task  in  New  York,  Boston  and  Philadelphia,  had 
scored  a  failure.  It  had  built  too  small  and  too  humbly. 
He  was  in  no  way  prepared  for  the  noise,  the  size, 
the  magnificence,  the  beauty  of  it.  In  spite  of  that, 
something  in  his  mental  inheritance  had  soon  awak- 
ened a  sense  of  recognition  and  familiarity.  He  im- 
agined that  the  sooty  odor  and  the  bells,  and  the  clat- 
ter of  wheels  and  horses'  feet  and  the  voices — the  air 
was  full  of  voices — were  like  the  echoes  of  a  remote 
past. 

The  thought  thrilled  him  that  somewhere  in  the 
great  crowd,  of  which  he  was  now  a  part,  were  the  two 
human  beings  he  had  come  so  far  to  see.  He  put  on 
his  best  clothes  and  with  the  letter  which  had  been  care- 
fully treasured — under  his  pillow  at  night  and  pinned 
to  his  pocket  lining  through  the  day — set  out  in  a  cab 
for  the  lodgings  of  Doctor  Franklin.  Through  a  maze 
of  streets  where  people  were  "thick  as  the  brush  in  the 
forests  of  Try  on  County"  he  proceeded  until  after 
a  journey  of  some  thirty  minutes  the  cab  stopped  at 
the  home  of  the  famous  American  on  Bloomsbury 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER      99 

Square.  Doctor  Franklin  was  in  and  would  see  him 
presently,  so  the  liveried  servant  informed  the  yotu;~ 
man  after  his  card  had  been  taken  to  the  Doctor's 
office.  He  was  shown  into  a  reception  room  and  asked 
to  wait,  where  others  were  waiting.  An  hour  passed 
and  the  day  was  growing  dusk  when  all  the  callers 
save  Jack  had  been  disposed  of.  Then  Franklin 
entered.  Jack  remembered  the  strong,  well-knit  frame 
and  kindly  gray  eyes  of  the  philosopher.  His  thick 
hair,  hanging  below  his  collar,  was  now  white.  He  was 
very  grand  in  a  suit  of  black  Manchester  velvet  with 
white  silk  stockings  and  bright  silver  buckles  on  his 
shoes.  There  was  a  gentle  dignity  in  his  face  when 
he  took  the  boy's  hand  and  said  with  a  smile : 

"You  are  so  big,  Jack.  You  have  built  a  six  foot, 
two  inch  man  out  of  that  small  lad  I  knew  in  Albany, 
and  well  finished,  too — great  thighs,  heavy  shoulders, 
a  mustache,  a  noble  brow  and  shall  I  say  the  eye  of 
Mars?  It's  a  wonder  what  time  and  meat  and  bread 
and  potatoes  and  air  can  accomplish.  But  perhaps 
industry  and  good  reading  have  done  some  work  on 
the  job." 

Jack  blushed  and  answered.  "It  would  be  hard  to 
fix  the  blame." 

Franklin  put  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder 
and  said : 

"She  is  a  lovely  girl,  Jack.  You  have  excellent  good 
taste.  I  congratulate  you.  Her  pulchritude  has  a 
background  of  good  character  and  she  is  alive  with 


ioo    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

the  spirit  of  the  New  World.  I  have  given  her  no 
chance  to  forget  you  if  that  had  been  possible.  Since 
I  became  the  agent  in  England  of  yourself  and  sundry 
American  provinces,  I  have  seen  her  often  but  never 
without  longing  for  the  gift  of  youth.  How  is  my 
family?" 

"They  are  well.    I  bring  you  letters." 

"Come  up  to  my  office  and  we'll  give  an  hour  to  the 


news." 


When  they  were  seated  before  the  grate  fire  in  the 
large,  pleasant  room  above  stairs  whose  windows 
looked  out  upon  the  Square,  the  young  man  said : 

"First  I  shall  give  you,  sir,  a  letter  from  Major 
Washington.  It  was  entrusted  to  a  friend  of  mine  who 
came  on  the  same  ship  with  me.  He  was  arrested  at 
Deal  but,  fortunately,  the  letter  was  in  my  pocket." 

"Arrested?    Why?" 

"I  think,  sir,  the  charge  was  that  he  had  helped  to 
tar  and  feather  a  British  subject." 

"Feathers  and  tar  are  poor  arguments,"  the  Doctor 
;-emarked  as  he  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter. 

It  was  a  long  letter  and  Franklin  sat  for  near  half 
an  hour  thoughtfully  reading  and  rereading  it.  By 
and  by  he  folded  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  saying  as 
he  did  so:  "An  angry  man  can  not  even  trust  him- 
self. I  sent  some  letters  to  America  on  condition  that 
they  should  be  read  by  a  committee  of  good  men  and 
treated  in  absolute  confidence  and  returned  to  me. 
Certain  members  of  that  committee  had  so  much  gun 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER     101 

powder  in  their  hearts  it  took  fire  and  their  prudence 
and  my  reputation  have  been  seriously  damaged,  I 
fear.  The  contents  of  those  letters  are  now  probably 
known  to  you." 

"Are  they  the  Hutchinson,  Rogers  and  Oliver 
letters?" 

"The  same." 

"I  think  they  are  known  to  every  one  in  America 
that  reads.  We  were  indignant  that  these  men  born 
and  raised  among  us  should  have  said  that  a  colony 
ought  not  to  enjoy  all  the  liberties  of  a  parent  state 
and  that  we  should  be  subjected  to  coercive  measures. 
They  had  expressed  no  such  opinion  save  in  these  pri- 
vate letters.  It  looked  like  a  base  effort  *o  curry  favor 
with  the  English  government." 

"Yes,  they  were  overworking  the  curry  comb,"  said 
Franklin.  "I  had  been  protesting  against  an  armed 
force  in  Boston.  The  government  declared  that  our 
own  best  people  were  in  favor  of  it.  I,  knowing  better, 
denied  the  statement.  To  prove  their  claim  a  dis- 
tinguished baronet  put  the  letters  in  my  hands.  He 
gave  me  leave  to  send  them  to  America  on  condition 
that  they  should  not  be  published.  Of  course  they 
proved  nothing  but  the  treachery  of  Hutchinson, 
Rogers  and  Oliver.  Now  I  seem  to  be  tarred  by  the 
same  stick." 

Jack  delivered  sundry  letters  from  the  family  of  the 
great  man  who  read  them  carefully. 

"It's  good  to  hear  from  home/'  he  said  when  he  had 


102     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

finished.  "You've  heard  of  the  three  Greenlanders, 
off  the  rocks  and  ice  where  there  was  not  dirt  enough 
to  raise  a  bushel  of  cabbages  or  light  enough  for  half 
the  year  to  make  a  shadow,  who  having  seen  the  world 
and  its  splendors  said  it  was  interesting,  but  that  they 
would  prefer  to  live  at  home  ?" 

"These  days  America  is  an  unhappy  land,"  said 
Jack.  "We  are  like  a  wildcat  in  captivity — a  growl- 
ing, quarrelsome  lot." 

"Well,  the  British  use  the  right  to  govern  us  like  a 
baby  rattle  and  they  find  us  a  poor  toy.  This  petty 
island,  compared  with  America,  is  but  a  stepping  stone 
in  a  brook.  There's  scarcely  enough  of  it  out  of  water 
to  keep  one's  feet  dry.  In  two  generations  our  popu- 
lation will  exceed  that  of  the  British  Isles.  But  with 
so  many  lying  agents  over  there  what  chance  have  they 
to  learn  anything  about  us  ?  They  will  expect  to  hear 
you  tell  of  people  being  tomahawked  in  Philadelphia 
— a  city  as  well  governed  as  any  in  England.  They 
can  not  understand  that  most  of  us  would  gladly  spend 
nineteen  shillings  to  the  pound  for  the  right  to  spend 
the  other  shilling  as  we  please." 

"Can  they  not  be  made  to  understand  us?"  Jack 
inquired. 

"The  power  to  learn  is  like  your  hand — you  must 
use  it  or  it  will  wither  and  die.  There  are  brilliant 
intellects  here  which  have  lost  the  capacity  to  learn.  I 
think  that  profound  knowledge  is  not  for  high  heads." 

"I  wonder  just  what  you  mean." 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER     103 

"Oh,  the  moment  you  lose  humility,  you  stop  learn- 
ing," the  Doctor  went  on.  "There  are  two  doors  to 
every  intellect.  One  lets  knowledge  in,  the  other  lets 
it  out.  We  must  keep  both  doors  in  use.  The  mind  is 
like  a  purse :  if  you  keep  paying  out  money,  you  must, 
now  and  then,  put  some  into  your  purse  or  it  will  be 
empty.  I  once  knew  a  man  who  was  a  liberal  spender 
but  never  did  any  earning.  We  soon  found  that  he 
had  been  making  counterfeit  money.  The  King's  intel- 
lects have  often  put  me  in  mind  of  him.  They  are 
flush  with  knowledge  but  they  never  learn  anything. 
They  can  tell  you  all  you  may  want  to  know  but  it  is 
counterfeit  knowledge." 

"How  about  Lord  North?" 

"He  has  nailed  up  the  door.  The  African  zebra  is 
a  good  student  compared  to  him.  It  is  a  maxim  of 
Walpole  and  North  that  all  men  are  equally  corrupt." 

"It  is  a  hateful  nation!"  Jack  exclaimed. 

"But  not  without  some  warrant.  You  may  be  sure 
that  a  man  who  has  spent  his  life  in  hospitals  will  have 
no  high  opinion  of  the  health  of  mankind.  He  and  his 
friends  are  so  engrossed  by  their  cards  and  cock  fights 
and  horses  and  hounds  that  they  have  little  time  for 
such  a  trivial  matter  as  the  problems  of  America. 
They  postpone  their  consideration  and  meanwhile  the 
house  is  catching  fire.  By  and  by  these  boys  are  going 
to  get  burned.  They  think  us  a  lot  of  semi-savages 
not  to  be  taken  seriously.  Our  New  England  farmers 
are  supposed  to  be  like  the  peasants  of  Europe.  The 


104     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

fact  is,  our  average  farmer  is  a  man  of  better  intel- 
lect and  character  than  the  average  member  of  Par- 
liament." 

"The  King's  intellects  would  seem  to  be  out  of 
order,"  said  Jack. 

"And  too  cynical.  They  think  only  of  revenues. 
They  remind  me  of  the  report  of  the  Reverend  Com- 
missary Blair  who,  having  projected  a  college  in  Vir- 
ginia, came  to  England  to  ask  King  William  for  help. 
The  Queen  in  the  King's  absence  ordered  her  Attor- 
ney-General to  draw  a  charter  with  a  grant  of  two 
thousand  pounds.  The  Attorney  opposed  it  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  in  a  war  and  needed  the  money 
for  better  purposes. 

"  'But,  Your  Honor,  Virginia  is  in  great  need  of 
ministers/  said  the  commissary.  'It  has  souls  to  be 
saved.' 

"  'Souls — damn  your  souls !  Make  tobacco/  said 
the  Queen's  lawyer. 

"The  counselors  of  royalty  have  no  high  opinion 
of  souls  or  principles.  Think  of  these  taxes  on  exports 
needed  by  neighbors.  The  minds  that  invented  them 
had  the  genius  of  a  pickpocket." 

"I  see  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  England,  sir," 
said  Jack. 

"My  boy,  you  do  not  see  straight,"  the  Doctor  an- 
swered. "I  am  fond  of  England.  At  heart  she  is 
sound.  The  King  is  a  kind  of  wooden  leg.  He  has  no 
feeling  and  no  connection  whatever  with  her  heart  and 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER      105 

little  with  her  intellect.  The  people  are  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  the  King.  The  best  minds  in  England  are 
directly  opposed  to  the  King's  policy;  so  are  most  of 
the  people,  but  they  are  helpless.  He  has  throttled  the 
voting  power  of  the  country.  Jack,  I  have  told  you 
all  this  and  shall  tell  you  more  because — well,  you 
know  Plato  said  that  he  would  rather  be  a  blockhead 
than  have  all  knowledge  and  nobody  to  share  it.  You 
ought  to  know  the  truth  but  I  have  told  you  only  for 
your  own  information." 

"I  am  going  to  write  letters  to  The  Gazette  but  I 
shall  not  quote  you,  sir,  without  permission/'  said  Jack. 

At  this  point  the  attendant  entered  and  announced 
that  Mr.  Thomas  Paine  had  called  to  get  his  manu- 
script. 

"Bring  him  up,"  said  the  Doctor. 

In  a  moment  a  slim,  dark-eyed  man  of  about  thirty- 
three  in  shabby,  ill-fitting  garments  entered  the  room. 

Doctor  Franklin  shook  his  hand  and  gave  him  a 
bundle  of  manuscript  and  said: 

"It  is  well  done  but  I  think  it  unsound.  I  would 
not  publish  it." 

"Why?"  Paine  asked  with  a  look  of  disappointment. 

"Well,  it  is  spitting  against  the  wind  and  he  who 
spits  against  the  wind  spits  in  his  own  face.  It  would 
be  a  dangerous  book.  Think  how  great  a  portion  of 
mankind  are  weak  and  ignorant  men  and  women; 
think  how  many  are  young  and  inexperienced  and  in- 
capable of  serious  thought.  They  need  religion  to 


io6    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

support  their  virtue  and  restrain  them  from  vice.  If 
men  are  so  wicked  with  religion  what  would  they  be 
without  it?  Lay  the  manuscript  away  and  we  will 
have  a  talk  about  it  later." 

"I  should  like  to  talk  with  you  about  it,"  the  man 
answered  with  a  smile  and  departed,  the  bundle  under 
his  arm. 

"Now,  Jack,"  said  Franklin,  as  he  looked  at  his 
watch,  "I  can  give  you  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  I 
must  go  and  dress  for  dinner.  Please  tell  me  about 
your  resources.  Are  you  able  to  get  married  ?" 

Jack  told  him  of  his  prospects  and  especially  of  the 
generosity  of  his  friend  Solomon  Binkus  and  of  the 
plight  the  latter  was  in. 

"He  must  be  a  remarkable  man,"1  said  Franklin. 
"With  Preston's  help  he  will  be  coming  on  to  London 
in  a  day  or  so.  If  necessary  you  and  I  will  go  down 
there.  We  shall  not  neglect  him.  Have  you  any  din- 
ner clothes?  They  will  be  important  to  you." 

"I  thought,  sir,  that  I  should  best  wait  until  I  had 
arrived  here." 

"You  thought  wisely.  I  shall  introduce  you  to  a 
good  cloth  mechanic.  Go  to  him  at  once  and  get  one 
suit  for  dinner  and  perhaps  two  for  the  street.  It 
costs  money  to  be  a  gentleman  here.  It's  a  fine  art. 
While  you  are  in  London  you'll  have  to  get  the  uni- 
form and  fall  in  line  and  go  through  the  evolutions 
or  you  will  be  a  'North  American  savage.'  You  shall 
meet  the  Hares  in  my  house  as  soon  as  your  clothes  are 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER     107 

ready.  Ask  the  tailor  to  hurry  up.  They  must  be  fin- 
ished by  Wednesday  noon.  You  had  better  have  lodg- 
ings near  me.  I  will  attend  to  that  for  you." 

The  Doctor  sat  down  and  wrote  on  a  number  of 
cards.  "These  will  provide  for  cloth,  linen,  leather 
and  hats,"  he  said.  "Let  the  bills  be  sent  to  me. 
Then  you  will  not  be  cheated.  Come  in  to-morrow 
at  half  after  two." 

2 

Jack  bade  the  Doctor  good  night  and  drove  to  The 
Spread  Eagle  where,  before  he  went  to  bed,  he  wrote 
to  his  parents  and  a  long  letter  to  The  Pennsylvania 
Gazette,  describing  his  voyage  and  his  arrival  substan- 
tially as  the  facts  are  here  recorded.  Next  morning  he 
ordered  every  detail  in  his  "uniforms"  for  morning 
and  evening  wear  and  returning  again  to  the  inn  found 
Solomon  waiting  in  the  lobby. 

"Here  I  be,"  said  the  scout  and  trapper. 

"What  happened  to  you?" 

"S'arched  an'  shoved  me  into  a  dark  hole  in  the 
wall.  Ye  know,  Jack,  with  you  an'  me,  it  allus  'pears 
to  be  workin'." 

"What?" 

"Good  luck.  Cur'us  thing  the  papers  was  on  you 
'stid  of  me — ayes,  sir,  'twas.  Did  ye  hand  'em  over 
safe?" 

"Last  night  I  put  'em  in  Franklin's  hands." 

"Hunkidory !   I'm  ready  fer  to  go  hum." 

"Not  yet  I  hope.  I  want  you  to  help  me  see  the 
plaw" 


to8     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Wall,  sir,  I'll  be  p'intin'  fer  hum  soon  es  I  kin  hop 
on  a  ship.  Couldn't  stan'  it  here,  too  much  noise  an* 
deviltry.  This  'ere  city  is  like  a  twenty-mile  bush  full 
o'  drunk  Injuns — Maumees,  hostyle  as  the  devil.  I 
went  out  fer  a  walk  an'  a  crowd  follered  me  eround 
which  I  don't  like  it.  'Look  at  the  North  American/ 
they  kep'  a-sayin'.  As  soon  as  I  touched  shore  the 
tommyhawk  landed  on  me.  But  fer  Cap.  Preston  I'd 
be  in  that  'ere  dark  hole  now.  He  see  the  Jedge  an' 
the  Jedge  called  fer  Slops  an'  Slops  had  slopped  over. 
He  were  layin'  under  a  tree  dead  drunk.  The  Jedge 
let  me  go  an'  Preston  come  on  with  me.  Now  'twere 
funny  he  turned  up  jest  as  he  done;  funny  I  got  ap- 
p'inted  cook  o'  The  Snow  so  as  I  had  to  give  that  'ere 
paper  to  you.  I  tell  ye  it's  workin' — allus  workin'." 

"Doctor  Franklin  wants  to  see  you,"  said  Jack.  "Put 
on  your  Sunday  clothes  an'  we'll  go  over  to  his  house. 
I  think  I  can  lead  you  there.  If  we  get  lost  we'll  jump 
into  a  cab." 

When  they  set  out  Solomon  was  dressed  in  fine 
shoes  and  brown  wool  stockings  and  drab  trousers,  a 
butternut  jacket  and  blue  coat,  and  a  big,  black  three- 
cornered  hat.  His  slouching  gait  and  large  body  and 
weathered  face  and  the  variety  of  colors  in  his  costume 
began  at  once  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  crowd. 
A  half-drunk  harridan  surveyed  him,  from  top  to  toe, 
and  made  a  profound  bow  as  he  passed.  A  number 
of  small  boys  scurried  along  with  them,  curiously  star- 
ing into  the  face  of  Solomon. 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER     109 

"Ain't  this  like  comin'  into  a  savage  tribe  that  ain't 
seen  no  civilized  human  bein'  f er  years  ?" 

"Wot  is  it?"  a  voice  shouted. 

"  'E's  a  blarsted  bush  w'acker  from  North  Hamer- 
ica,  'e  is,"  another  answered. 

Jack  stopped  a  cab  and  they  got  into  it. 

"Show  us  some  of  the  great  buildings  and  land  us  in 
an  hour  at  10  Bloomsbury  Square,  East,"  he  said. 

With  a  sense  of  relief  they  were  whisked  away  in 
the  stream  of  traffic. 

They  passed  the  King's  palace  and  the  great  town 
houses  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford  and  Lord  Balcarras, 
each  of  which  was  pointed  out  by  the  driver.  Sud- 
denly every  vehicle  near  them  stopped,  while  their 
male  occupants  sat  with  bared  heads,  Jack  observed  a 
curious  procession  on  the  sidewalk  passing  between 
two  lines  of  halted  people. 

"Hit's  their  Majesties!"  the  driver  whispered  under 
his  breath. 

The  King — a  stout,  red-nosed,  blue-jowled  man, 
with  big,  gray,  staring  eyes — was  in  a  sedan  chair  sur- 
mounted by  a  crown.  He  was  dressed  in  light  cloth 
with  silver  buttons.  Queen  Charlotte,  also  in  a  chair, 
was  dressed  in  lemon  colored  silk  ornamented  with 
brocaded  flowers.  The  two  were  smiling  and  bowing 
as  they  passed.  In  a  moment  the  procession  entered  a 
great  gate.  Then  there  was  a  crack  of  whips  and  the 
traffic  resumed  its  hurried  pace. 

"Hit's  their  Majesties   sir,  goin'  to  a  drawin'-room 


I  io    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

at  Lord  Rawdon's,  sir,"  the  driver  explained  as  he 
drove  on. 

"Did  you  see  the  unnatural  look  in  his  gray  eyes?" 
said  Jack,  turning  to  Solomon. 

"Ayes!  Kind  o'  skeered  like!  'Twere  a  han'some 
yoke  o'  men  totin'  him — well  broke,  too,  I  guess. 
Pulled  even  an'  nobody  yellin'  gee  er  haw  er  whoa 
hush." 

"You  know  it  isn't  proper  for  kings  and  queens  to 
walk  in  public,"  Jack  answered. 

Again  Solomon  had  on  his  shooting  face.    With  his 
left  eye  closed,  he  took  deliberate  aim  with  the  other  at 
the  subject  before  them  and  thus  discharged  his  im 
pressions. 

"Uh  huh!  I  suppose  'twouldn't  do  fer  'em  to  be 
like  other  folks  so  they  have  to  have  some  extry  pairs 
o'  legs  to  kind  o'  put  on  when  they  go  ou'doors.  I 
wonder  if  they  ain't  obleeged  to  have  an  extry  set  o' 
brains  fer  public  use." 

"They  have  quantities  of  'em  all  made  and  furnished 
to  order  and  stored  in  the  court,"  said  Jack.  "His  own 
mind  is  only  for  use  in  the  private  rooms." 

"I  should  think  'twould  git  out  o'  order,"  Solomon 
remarked. 

"It  does.     They  say  he's  been  as  crazy  as  a  loon." 

Soon  the  two  observers  became  interested  in  a  band 
of  sooty-faced  chimney  sweeps  decorated  with  rib- 
bands and  gilt  paper.  They  were  making  musical 
sounds  with  their  brushes  and  scrapers  and  soliciting 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER  in 

gifts  from  the  passing  crowd  and,  now  and  then, 
scrambling  for  tossed  coins. 

In  the  Ave  Mary  Lane  they  saw  a  procession  of  milk 
men  and  maids  carrying  wreaths  of  flowers  on  wheel- 
barrows, the  first  of  which  held  a  large  white  pyramid 
which  seemed  to  be  a  symbol  of  their  calling.  They 
were  also  begging. 

"It's  a  lickpenny  place,"  said  Jack. 

"Somebody's  got  to  do  some  'arnin'  to  pay  fer  all  the 
foolin'  eround,"  Solomon  answered.  "If  I  was  to  stay 
here  I'd  git  myself  ragged  up  like  these  'ere  savages 
and  jine  the  tribe  er  else  I'd  lose  the  use  o'  my  legs  an' 
spend  all  my  money  bein'  toted.  I  ain't  used  to  settin' 
down  when  I  move,  you  hear  to  me." 

"I'll  take  you  to  Doctor  Franklin's  tailor,"  Jack 
proposed. 

"Major  Washington  tol'  me  whar  to  go.  I  got  the 
name  an'  the  street  all  writ  down  plain  in  my  wallet 
but  I  got  t'  go  hum." 

They  had  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  famous  Amer- 
ican. Jack  and  Solomon  went  in  and  sat  down  with  a 
dozen  others  to  await  their  turn. 

When  they  had  been  conducted  to  the  presence  of 
the  great  man  he  took  Solomon's  hand  and  said : 

"Mr.  Binkus,  I  am  glad  to  bid  you  welcome." 

He  looked  down  at  the  sinewy,  big-boned,  right  hand 
of  the  scout,  still  holding  it. 

"Will  you  step  over  to  the  window  a  moment  and 
give  me  a  look  at  your  hands  ?"  he  asked. 


H2     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  went  to  the  window  and  the  Doctor  put  on  his 
spectacles  and  examined  them  closely. 

"I  have  never  seen  such  an  able,  Samsonian  fist," 
he  went  on.  "I  think  the  look  of  those  hands  would  let 
you  into  Paradise.  What  a  record  of  human  service 
is  writ  upon  them !  Hands  like  that  have  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  America.  They  have  been  generous  hands. 
They  tell  me  all  I  need  to  know  of  your  spirit,  your 
lungs,  your  heart  and  your  stomach." 

"They're  purty  heavy — that's  why  I  gen'ally  carry 
'em  in  my  pockets  when  I  ain't  busy,"  said  Solomon. 

"Over  here,  a  pair  of  hands  like  that  are  thought  to 
be  a  disgrace.  They  are  like  the  bloody  hands  of  Mac- 
beth.  Certain  people  would  look  at  them  and  say: 
'My  God,  man,  you  are  guilty  of  hard  work.  You  have 
produced  food  for  the  hungry  and  fuel  for  the  cold. 
You  are  not  an  idler.  You  have  refused  to  waste  your 
time  with  Vice  and  Folly.  Avaunt  and  quit  my  sight.' 
In  America  every  one  works — even  the  horse,  the  ass 
and  the  ox.  Only  the  hog  is  a  gentleman.  There  are 
many  mischievous  opinions  in  Europe  but  the  worst 
is  that  useful  labor  is  dishonorable.  Do  you  like 
London?" 

Solomon  put  his  face  in  shape  for  a  long  shot.  Jack 
has  written  that  he  seemed  to  be  looking  for  hostile 
"Injuns"  some  distance  away  and  to  be  waiting  for  an- 
other stir  in  the  bushes.  Suddenly  he  pulled  his 
trigger. 

"London  ar.'  T  is  kind  o'  skeered  o'  one  'nother. 


LONDON  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER     113 

It  'minds  me  o'  the  fust  time  I  run  into  oP  Thorny 
Tree.  They  was  a  young  brave  with  him  an'  both  on 
'em  had  guns.  They  knowed  me  an'  I  knowed  them. 
Looked  as  if  there'd  have  to  be  some  killin'  done.  We 
both  made  the  sign  o'  friendship  an'  kep'  edgin'  erway 
f'm  one  'nother  careless  like  but  keepin'  close  watch. 
Sudden  as  scat  they  run  like  hell  in  one  direction  an'  I 
in  t'other.  I  guess  I  look  bad  to  London  an'  London 
looks  bad  to  me,  but  I'll  have  to  do  all  the  runnin'  this 
time." 

The  Doctor  laughed.  "It  has  never  seen  a  man  just 
like  you  before,"  he  observed.  "I  saw  Sir  Jeffrey  Ani- 
herst  this  morning  and  told  him  you  were  in  London. 
He  is  fond  of  you  and  paid  you  many  compliments  and 
made  me  promise  to  bring  you  to  his  home." 

"I'd  like  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  ol'  Jeff,"  Solomon 
answered.  "They  ain't  no  nonsense  'bout  him.  I 
learnt  him  how  to  talk  Injun  an'  read  rapids  an'  build 
a  fire  with  tinder  an'  elbow  grease.  He  knows  me 
plenty.  He  staked  his  life  on  me  a  dozen  times  in  the 
Injun  war." 

"How  is  Major  Washington  ?"  the  Doctor  asked. 

"Stout  as  a  pot  o'  ginger,"  Solomon  answered.  "I 
rassled  with  him  one  evenin'  down  in  Virginny  an'  I'll 
never  tackle  him  ag'in,  you  hear  to  me.  His  right 
flipper  is  as  big  as  mine  an'  when  it  takes  holt  ye'd 
think  it  were  goin'  to  strip  the  shuck  off  yer  soul." 

"He's  in  every  way  a  big  man,"  said  the  Doctor. 
"On  the  whole,  he's  about  our  biggest  man.  An  officer 


H4     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

who  came  out  of  the  ambuscade  at  Fort  Duquesne  with 
thirty  living  men  out  of  three  companies  and  four  shot 
holes  in  his  coat  must  have  an  engagement  with  Des- 
tiny. Evidently  his  work  was  not  finished.  You  have 
traveled  about  some.  What  is  the  feeling  over  there 
toward  England?" 

"They're  like  a  b'ilin'  pot  everywhere.    England  has 
got  to  step  careful  now." 

"Tell  Sir  Jeffrey  that,  if  you  see  him,  just  that. 
Don't  mince  matters.     Jack,  I'll  send  my  man  with 
you  and  Mr.  Binkus  to  show  you  the  new  lodgings 
We  found  them  this  morning." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    LOVERS 

THE  fashionable  tailor  was  done  with  Jack's  equip- 
ment. Franklin  had  seen  and  approved  the  admirably 
shaped  and  fitted  garments.  The  young  man  and  his 
friend  Solomon  had  moved  to  their  new  lodgings  on 
Bloomsbury  Square.  The  scout  had  acquired  a  suit 
for  street  wear  and  was  now  able  to  walk  abroad  with- 
out exciting  the  multitudes..  The  Doctor  was  planning 
what  he  called  "a  snug  little  party."  So"  he  announced 
when  Jack  and  Solomon  came,  adding : 

"But  first  you  are  to  meet  Margaret  and  her  mother 
here  at  half  after  four." 

Jack  made  careful  preparation  for  that  event.  For- 
tunately it  was  a  clear,  bright  day  after  foggy  weather. 
Solomon  had  refused  to  go  with  Jack  for  fear  of  being 
in  the  way. 

"I  want  to  see  her  an'  her  folks  but  I  reckon  ye'll 
have  yer  hands  full  to-day/'  he  remarked.  "Ye  don't 
need  no  scout  on  that  kind  o'  reconnoiterin'.  You  go 
on  ahead  an'  git  through  with  yer  smackin  an'  bym-by 
I'll  straggle  in." 

Precisely  at  four  thirty-five  Jack  presented  himself 
at  the  lodgings  of  his  distinguished  friend.  He  has 
said  in  a  letter,  when  his  dramatic  adventures  were  all 
behind  him,  that  this  was  the  most  thrilling  moment  he 


n6    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

had  known.  "The  butler  had  told  me  that  the  ladies 
were  there,"  he  wrote.  "Upon  my  word  it  put  me  out 
of  breath  climbing  that  little  flight  of  stairs.  But  it 
was  in  fact  the  end  of  a  long  journey.  It  is  curious 
that  my  feeling  then  should  remind  me,  as  it  does,  of 
moments  when  I  have  been  close  up  to  the  enemy, 
within  his  lines,  and  lying  hard  against  the  ground  in 
some  thicket  while  British  soldiers  were  tramping  so 
near  I  could  feel  the  ground  shake.  In  the  room  I 
saw  Lady  Hare  and  Doctor  Franklin  standing  side  by 
side.  What  a  smile  he  wore  as  he  looked  at  me!  I 
have  never  known  a  human  being  who  had  such  a 
cheering  light  in  his  countenance.  I  have  seen  it 
brighten  the  darkest  days  of  the  war  aided  by  the  light 
of  his  words.  His  faith  arid  good  .cheer  were  immov- 
able. I  felt  the  latter  when  he  said : 

"  'See  the  look  of  alarm  in  his  face.  Now  for  a  pretty 
drama  I' 

"Mrs.  Hare  gave  me  her  hand  and  I  kissed  it  and 
said  that  I  had  expected  to  see  Margaret  and  hoped 
that  she  was  not  ill.  There  was  a  thistledown  touch 
on  my  cheek  from  behind  and  turning  I  saw  the  laugh- 
ing face  I  sought  looking  up  at  me.  I  tell  you,  my 
mother,  there  never  was  such  a  pair  of  eyes.  Their 
long,  dark  lashes  and  the  glow  between  them  I  remem- 
ber chiefly.  The  latter  was  the  friendly  light  of  her 
spirit.  To  me  it  was  like  a  candle  in  the  window  to 
guide  my  feet.  'Come,'  it  seemed  to  say.  'Here  is  a 
welcome  for  you.'  I  saw  the  pink  in  her  cheeks,  the 


THE  LOVERS  117 

crimson  in  her  lips,  the  white  of  her  neck,  the  glow  of 
her  abundant  hair,  the  shapeliness  of  brow  and  nose 
and  chin  in  that  first  glance.  I  saw  the  beating  of  her 
heart  even.  I  remember  there  was  a  tiny  mole  on  her 
temple  under  the  edge  of  that  beautiful,  golden  crown 
of  hers.  It  did  not  escape  my  eye.  I  tell  you  she  was 
fair  as  the  first  violets  in  Meadowvale  on  a  dewy  morn- 
ing. Of  course  she  was  at  her  best.  It  was  the  last 
moment  in  years  of  waiting  in  which  her  imagination 
had  furnished  me  with  endowments  too  romantic.  I 
have  seen  great  moments,  as  you  know,  but  this  is  the 
one  I  could  least  afford  to  give  up.  I  had  long  been 
wondering  what  I  should  do  when  it  came.  Now  it 
was  come  and  there  was  no  taking  thought  of  what  we 
should  do.  That  would  seem  to  have  been  settled  out 
of  court.  I  kissed  her  lips  and  she  kissed  mine  and  for 
a  few  moments  I  think  we  could  have  stood  in  a  half 
bushel  measure.  Then  the  Doctor  laughed  and  gave 
her  Ladyship  a  smack  on  the  cheek. 

"  T  don't  know  about  you,  my  Lady,  but  it  fills  me 
with  the  glow  of  youth  to  see  such  going  on,'  he  re- 
marked. Tm  only  twenty-one  and  nobody  knows  it — 
nobody  suspects  it  even.  These  wrinkles  and  gray  hair 
are  only  a  mask  that  covers  the  heart  of  a  boy.' 

"  'I  confess  that  such  a  scene  does  push  me  back  into 
my  girlhood/  said  Lady  Hare.  'Alas!  I  feel  the  old 
thrill/ 

"Franklin  came  and  stood  before  us  with  his  hands 
upon  our  shoulders,  his  face  shining  with  happiness. 


Ii8    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"  'Margaret,  a  woman  needs  something  to  hold  on 
.o  in  this  slippery  world/  said  he.  'Here  is  a  man 
that  stands  as  firm  as  an  oak  tree.' 

"He  kissed  us  as  did  Lady  Hare,  also,  and  then  we 
all  sat  down  together  and  laughed.  I  would  not  for- 
get, if  I  could,  that  we  had  to  wipe  our  eyes.  No,  my 
life  has  not  been  all  blood  and  iron. 

"Would  you  not  call  it  a  wonder  that  we  had  kept 
the  sacred  fire  which  had  been  kindled  in  our  hearts, 
so  long  before,  and  our  faith  in  each  other?  It  is  be- 
cause we  were  both  of  a  steadfast  breed  of  folk— the 
English — trained  to  cling  to  the  things  that  are  worth 
while.  Once  they  think  they  are  right  how  hard  it  is 
to  turn  them  aside!  Let  us  never  forget  that  some  of 
the  best  of  our  traits  have  come  from  England. 

"Suddenly  Solomon  arrived.  Of  course  where  Solo- 
mon is  one  would  expect  solecisms.  They  were  not 
wanting.  I  had  not  tried  to  prepare  him  for  the  ordeal. 
Solomon  is  bound  to  be  himself  wherever  he  is,  and 
why  not  ?  There  is  no  better  man  living. 

"  'You're  as  purty  as  a  golden  robin/  he  said  to 
Margaret,  shaking  her  hand  in  his  big  one. 

"He  was  not  so  much  put  out  as  I  thought  he  would 
be.  I  never  saw  a  gentler  man  with  women.  As  hard 
as  iron  in  a  fight  there  has  always  been  a  curious  vein 
of  chivalry  in  the  old  scout.  He  stood  and  joked  with 
the  girl,  in  his  odd  fashion,  and  set  us  all  laughing. 
Margaret  and  her  mother  enjoyed  his  talk  and  spoke 
of  it,  often,  after  that. 


THE  LOVERS  119 

"  'Wai,  Mis  Hare,'  he  said  to  Her  Ladyship,  'if  ye 
graft  this  'ere  sprout  on  yer  fam'ly  tree  I'll  bet  ye  a 
pint  o'  powder  an'  a  fish  hook  ye  won't  never  be  sorry 
fer  it.' 

"It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that  there  were 
those  to  whom  a  pint  of  powder  and  a  fish  hook  would 
be  no  great  temptation. 

2 

"I  dressed  and  went  to  dine  with  the  Hares  that 
evening.  They  lived  in  a  large  house  on  a  fashionable 
'road'  as  certain  of  the  streets  were  called.  It  was  a 
typical  upper  class,  English  home.  There  were  many 
fine  old  things  in  it  but  no  bright  colors,  nothing  to 
dazzle  or  astonish  you  like  the  wooden  Indian  in  war 
paint  and  feathers  and  the  stuffed  bear  and  high  col- 
ored rugs  in  the  parlor  of  Mr.  Gosport  in  Philadelphia. 
Every  piece  of  furniture  was  like  the  quiet,  still  footed 
servants  who  came  and  went  making  the  smallest  pos- 
sible demand  upon  your  attention. 

"I  was  shown  into  the  library  where  Sir  Benjamin 
sat  alone  reading  a  newspaper.  He  greeted  me  po- 
litely. 

"  The  news  is  disquieting/  he  said  presently.  'What 
have  you  to  tell  us  of  the  situation  in  America  ?' 

"  'It  is  critical,'  I  answered.  'It  can  be  mended, 
however,  if  the  government  will  act  promptly/ 

"  'What  should  it  do?' 

"  'Make  concessions,  sir,  stop  shipping  tea  for  a 
time.  Don't  try  to  force  an  export  with  a  duty  on  it. 


120    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

I  think  the  government  should  not  shake  the  mailed 
fist  at  us/ 

"  'But  think  of  the  violence  and  the  destruction  of 
property !' 

'  'All  that  will  abate  and  disappear  if  the  cause  is 
removed.  We  who  keep  our  affection  for  England 
have  done  our  best  to  hold  the  passions  of  the  people 
in  check  but  we  get  no  help  from  this  side  of  the 
ocean.' 

"Sir  Benjamin  sat  thoughtfully  feeling  his  silvered 
mustache.  He  had  grown  stouter  and  fuller-faced 
since  we  had  parted  in  Albany  when  he  had  looked 
like  a  prosperous,  well-bred  merchant  in  military  dress 
and  had  been  limbered  and  soiled  by  knocking  abou* 
in  the  bush.  Now  he  wore  a  white  wig  and  ruffles  and 
looked  as  dignified  as  a  Tory  magistrate. 

"In  the  moment  of  silence  I  mustered  up  my  cour- 
age and  spoke  out. 

'  'Sir  Benjamin/  I  said.  'I  have  come  to  claim  your 
daughter  under  the  promise  you  gave  me  at  Fort  Stan- 
wix.  I  have  not  ceased  to  love  her  and  if  she  continues 
to  love  me  I  am  sure  that  our  wishes  will  have  your 
favor  and  blessing/ 

"  T  have  not  forgotten  the  promise/  he  said.  'But 
America  has  changed.  It  is  likely  to  be  a  hotbed  of 
rebellion — perhaps  even  the  scene  of  a  bloody  war.  I 
must  consider  my  daughter's  happiness/ 

"  'Conditions  in  America,  sir,  are  not  so  bad  as  you 
take  them  to  be/  I  assured  him. 


THE  LOVERS  121 

"  'I  hope  you  are  right,'  he  answered.  'I  am  told 
that  the  whole  matter  rests  with  your  Doctor  Frank- 
lin. If  we  are  to  go  on  from  bad  to  worse  he  will  be 
responsible.' 

'  'If  it  rests  with  him  I  can  assure  you,  sir,  that 
our  troubles  will  end,'  I  said,  looking  only  at  the  sur- 
face of  the  matter  and  speaking  confidently  out  of  the 
bottomless  pit  of  my  inexperience  as  the  young  are 
like  to  do. 

"  'I  believe  you  are  right,'  he  declared  and  went  on 
with  a  smile.  'Now,  my  young  friend,  the  girl  has  a 
notion  that  she  loves  you.  I  am  aware  of  that — so  are 
you,  I  happen  to  know.  Through  Doctor  Franklin's 
influence  we  have  allowed  her  to  receive  your  letters 
and  to  answer  them.  I  have  no  doubt  of  your  sin- 
cerity, or  hers,  but  I  did  not  foresee  what  has  come 
to  pass.  She  is  our  only  child  and  you  can  scarcely 
blame  me  if  I  balk  at  a  marriage  which  promises  to 
turn  her  away  from  us  and  fill  our  family  with  dis- 
sension/ 

"  'May  we  not  respect  each  other  and  disagree  in 
politics?'  I  asked. 

"  'In  politics,  yes,  but  not  in  war.  I  begin  to  see 
danger  of  war  and  that  is  full  of  the  bitterness  of 
death.  If  Doctor  Franklin  will  do  what  he  can  to  re- 
establish loyalty  and  order  in  the  colonies  my  fear  will 
be  removed  and  I  shall  welcome  you  to  my  family/ 
"I  began  to  show  a  glint  of  intelligence  and  said: 
'If  the  ministers  will  cooperate  it  will  not  be  difficult.' 


122     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"  'The  ministers  will  do  anything  it  is  in  their 
power  to  do.' 

"Then  the  timely  entrance  of  Margaret  and  her 
mother. 

"  'I  suppose  that  I  shall  shock  my  father  but  I  can 
not  help  it/  said  the  girl  as  she  kissed  me. 

"You  may  be  sure  that  I  had  my  part  in  that  game. 
She  stood  beside  me,  her  arm  around  my  waist  and 
mine  around  her  shoulders. 

"  'Father,  can  you  blame  me  for  loving  this  big, 
splendid  hero  who  saved  us  from  the  Indians  and  the 
bandits  ?  It  is  unlike  you  to  be  such  a  hardened  wretch. 
But  for  him  you  would  have  neither  wife  nor  daughter/ 

"She  put  it  on  thick  but  I  held  my  peace  as  I  have 
done  many  a  time  in  the  presence  of  a  woman's  cun- 
ning. Anyhow  she  is  apt  to  believe  herself  and  in 
a  matter  of  the  heart  can  find  her  way  through  diffi- 
culties which  would  appal  a  man. 

"  'Keep  yourself  in  bounds,  my  daughter/  her  father 
answered.  'I  know  his  merits  and  should  like  to  see 
you  married  and  hope  to,  but  I  must  ask  you  to  be 
patient  until  you  can  go  to  a  loyal  colony  with  your 
husband/ 

"It  was  a  pleasant  dinner  through  which  they  kept 
me  telling  of  my  adventures  in  the  bush.  Save  the  im- 
mediate family  only  Mrs.  Biggars,  a  sister  of  Lady 
Hare,  and  a  young  nephew  of  Sir  Benjamin  were  at 
the  table/' 

Jack  has  said  in  another  of  his  letters  that 


THE  LOVERS  123 

Biggars  was  a  sweet,  stout  lady  whose  manner  of 
address  reminded  him  of  an  affectionate  house  cat. 
"That  means,  as  you  will  know,  that  I  liked  her/'  he 
added. 

"The  ladies  sat  together  at  one  end  of  the  table.  The 
baronet  pumped  me  for  knowledge  of  the  hunting  and 
fishing  in  the  northern  part  of  Tryon  County  where 
Solomon  and  I  had  spent  a  week,  having  left  our  boat 
in  Lake  Champlain  and  journeyed  off  in  the  mountains. 

'  'Champlain  was  a  man  of  imagination/  said  my 
host  'He  tells  of  trying  to  land  on  a  log  lying  against 
the  lake  shore  and  of  discovering,  suddenly,  that  it 
was  an  immense  fish/ 

"  'Since  I  learned  that  I  was  to  meet  you  I  have 
been  reading  a  book  entitled  The  Animals  of  North 
America,3  said  Mrs.  Biggars.  'I  have  learned  that 
bears  often  climb  after  and  above  the  hunter  and 
double  themselves  up  and  fall  toward  him,  knocking 
him  out  of  the  tree.  Have  you  seen  it  done?' 

."  'I  think  it  was  never  done  outside  a  book/  I  an- 
swered. 'I  never  saw  a  bear  that  was  not  running 
away  from  me.  They  hate  the  look  of  a  man.' 

"Mrs.  Biggars  was  filled  with  astonishment  and 
went  on:  The  author  tells  of  an  animal  on  the  bor- 
ders of  Canada  that  resembles  a  horse.  It  has  cloven 
hoofs,  a  shaggy  mane,  a  horn  right  out  of  its  fore- 
head and  a  tail  like  that  of  a  pig.  When  hunted  it 
spews  hot  water  upon  the  dogs.  I  wonder  if  you 
could  have  seen  such  an  animal?' 


124    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"  'No,  that's  another  nightmare/  I  answered.  Teo- 
ple  go  hunting  for  nightmares  in  America.  They  en- 
joy them  and  often  think  they  have  found  them  when 
they  have  not.  It  all  comes  of  trying  to  talk  with  In- 
dians and  of  guessing  at  the  things  they  say/ 

"Sir  Benjamin  remarked  that  when  a  man  wrote 
about  nature  he  seemed  to  regard  himself  as  a  first 
deputy  of  God. 

"  'And  undertakes  to  lend  him  a  hand  in  the  work  of 
creation,'  I  suggested.  'Even  your  great  Doctor  John- 
son has  stated  that  swallows  spend  the  winter  at  the 
bottom  of  the  streams,  forgetting  that  they  might  find 
it  a  rather  slippery  place  to  hang  on  to  and  a  winter 
a  long  time  to  hold  their  breaths.  Even  Goldsmith 
has  been  divinely  reckless  in  his  treatment  of  Ani- 
mated Nature/ 

"  'I  am  surprised,  sir,  at  your  familiarity  with  Eng- 
lish authors,'  he  declared.  'When  we  think  of  Amer- 
ica we  are  apt  to  think  of  savages  and  poverty  and 
ignorance  and  log  huts.' 

"  'You  forget,  sir,  that  we  have  about  all  the  best 
books  and  the  leisure  to  read  them,'  I  answered. 

"  'You  undoubtedly  have  the  best  game,'  said  he. 
Tell  us  about  the  shooting  and  fishing.' 

"I  told  of  the  deer,  the  moose  and  the  caribou,  all  of 
which  I  had  killed,  and  of  our  fishing  on  the  long  river 
of  the  north  with  a  lure  made  of  the  feathers  of  a 
woodpecker,  and  of  covering  the  bottom  of  our  canoe 
with  beautiful  speckled  fish.  All  this  warmed  the 


THE  LOVERS  125 

heart  of  Sir  Benjamin  who  questioned  me  as  to  every 
detail  in  my  experience  on  trail  and  river.  He  was  a 
born  sportsman  and  my  stories  had  put  a  smile  on  his 
face  so  that  I  felt  sure  he  had  a  better  feeling  for  me 
when  we  arose  from  the  table. 

"Then  I  had  an  hour  alone  with  Margaret  in  a 
corner  of  the  great  hall.  We  reviewed  the  years  that 
had  passed  since  our  adventure  and  there  was  one  de- 
tail in  her  history  of  which  I  must  tell  you.  She  had 
had  many  suitors,  and  among  them  one  Lionel  Clarke 
— a  son  of  the  distinguished  General.  Her  father  had 
urged  her  to  accept  the  young  man,  but  she  had  stood 
firmly  for  me. 

"  'You  see,  this  heart  of  mine  is  a  stubborn  thing/ 
she  said  as  she  looked  into  my  eyes. 

"Then  it  was  that  we  gave  to  each  other  the  long 
pledge,  often  on  the  lips  of  lovers  since  Eros  strung  his 
bow,  but  never  more  deeply  felt. 

"  'I.  am  sure  the  sky  will  clear  soon/  she  said  to 
me  at  last. 

"Indeed  as  I  bade  them  good  night,  I  saw  encourag- 
ing signs  of  that.  Sir  Benjamin  had  taken  a  liking  to 
me.  He  pressed  my  hand  as  we  drank  a  glass  of  Ma- 
deira together  and  said : 

"  'My  boy,  I  drink  to  the  happiness  of  England,  the 
colonies  and  you/  ' 

"  '  "Time  and  I"  and  the  will  of  God/  I  whispered, 
as  I  left  their  door." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  DAWN 

THE  young  man  was  elated  by  the  look  and  senti- 
ments which  had  gone  with  the  parting  cup  at  Sir  Ben- 
jamin's. But  Franklin,  whom  he  saw  the  next  day, 
liked  not  the  attitude  of  the  Baronet. 

"He  is  one  of  the  King's  men  on  the  Big  chess 
board,"  said  the  old  philosopher.  "All  that  he  said  to 
you  has  the  sound  of  strategy.  I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  they  are  trying  to  tow  us  into  port  and 
Margaret  is  only  one  of  many  ropes.  Hare's  attitude 
is  not  that  of  an  honest  man." 

"Is  it  not  true  that  every  one  who  touches  the  King 
gets  some  of  that  tar  on  him?"  Jack  queried. 

"It  would  seem  so  and  yet  we  must  be  fai^  to  him. 
We  are  not  to  think  that  the  King  is  the  only  black 
pot  on  the  fire.  He  is  probably  the  best  of  kings  but 
I  can  not  think  of  one  king  who  would  be  respectable 
in  Boston  or  Philadelphia.  Their  expenses  have  been 
great,  their  taxes  robbery,  so  they  have  had  to  study 
the  magic  arts  of  seeming  to  be  just  and  righteous. 
They  have  been  a  lot  of  conjurers  trained  to  create 
illusions." 

"I  suppose  that  Britain  is  no  worse  than  other  king- 
doms," said  the  young  man. 

"On  the  whole  she  is  the  best  of  them.  Under  the 
126 


THE  DAWN  127 

surface  here  I  find  the  love  of  liberty  and  all  good 
things.  Chatham,  Burke  and  Fox  are  their  voices.  We 
are  not  to  wonder  that  Lord  North  puts  a  price  on 
every  man.  His  is  the  soul  of  a  past  in  which  most 
men  have  had  their  price.  It  was  the  old  way  of  re- 
moving difficulties  in  the  management  of  a  state.  It 
succeeded.  A  new  day  is  at  hand.  Its  forerunners 
are  here.  He  has  not  seen  the  signs  in  the  sky  or  heard 
the  cocks  crowing.  He  is  still  asleep.  I  know  many 
men  in  England  whom  he  could  not  buy." 

Only  three  days  before  the  philosopher  had  had  a 
talk  with  North  at  the  urgent  request  of  Howe,  who, 
to  his  credit,  was  eager  for  reconciliation.  The  King's 
friend  and  minister  was  contemptuous. 

"I  am  quite  indifferent  to  war,"  he  had  cynically  de- 
clared at  last.  "The  confiscations  it  would  produce 
will  provide  for  many  of  our  friends." 

It  was  an  astonishing  bit  of  frankness. 

"I  take  this  opportunity  of  assuring  Your  Lordship 
that  for  all  the  property  you  seize  or  destroy  in  Amer- 
ica, you  will  pay  to  the  last  farthing,"  said  Franklin. 

This  treatment  was  like  that  he  had  received  from 
other  members  of  the  government  since  the  unfor- 
tunate publication  of  the  Hutchinson,  Rogers  and 
Oliver  letters.  They  seemed  to  entertain  the  notion 
that  he  had  forfeited  the  respect  due  a  gentleman. 

A  few  days  after  Franklin  had  given  air  to  his  sus- 
picion that  the  government  party  would  try  to  tow  him 
into  port  three  stout  British  ships  had  broken  their 


128    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

cables  on  him.  An  invitation  not  likely  to  be  received 
by  one  who  had  really  forfeited  the  respect  of  gentle- 
men was  in  his  hands.  The  shrewd  philosopher  did 
not  think  twice  about  it.  He  knew  that  here  was  the 
first  step  in  a  change  of  tactics.  He  could  not  properly 
decline  to  accept  it  and  so  he  went  to  dine  and  spend 
the  night  with  a  most  distinguished  company  at  the 
country  seat  of  Lord  Howe. 

On  his  return  he  told  his  young  friend  of  the  portal 
and  lodge  in  a  great  triumphal  arch  marking  the  en- 
trance to  the  estate  of  His  Lordship;  of  the  mile  long 
road  to  the  big  house  straight  as  a  gun  barrel  and 
smooth  as  a  carpet ;  of  the  immense  single  oaks ;  of  the 
artificial  stream  circling  the  front  of  the  house  and  the 
beautiful  bridge  leading  to  its  entrance;  of  the  double 
flight  of  steps  under  the  grand  portico;  of  the  great 
hall  with  its  ceiling  forty  feet  high,  supported  by  fluted 
Corinthian  columns  of  red-veined  alabaster;  of  the 
rare  old  tapestries  on  a  golden  background  in  the  sa- 
loon; of  the  immense  corridors  connecting  the  wings 
of  the  structure.  The  dinner  and  its  guests  and  its 
setting  were  calculated  to  impress  the  son  of  the  Boston 
soap  boiler  who  represented  the  important  colonies  in 
America. 

Some  of  the  best  people  were  there — Lord  and  Lady 
Cathcart,  Lord  and  Lady  Hyde,  Lord  and  Lady  Dart- 
mouth. Sir  William  Erskine,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  Sir 
James  Baird,  Sir  Benjamin  Hare  and  their  ladies 
were  also  present.  Doctor  Franklin  said  that  the 


THE  DAWN  129 

punch  was  calculated  to  promote  cheerfulness  and  high 
sentiment.  As  was  the  custom  at  like  functions,  the 
ladies  sat  together  at  one  end  of  the  table,  Franklin 
being  seated  at  the  right  of  Lady  Howe,  who  was 
most  gracious  and  entertaining.  The  first  toast  was 
to  the  venerable  philosopher. 

"My  Ladies,  Lords  and  gentlemen/'  said  the  host, 
"we  must  look  to  our  conduct  in  the  presence  of  one 
who  talked  with  Sir  William  Wyndham  and  was  a 
visitor  in  the  house  of  Sir  Hans  Sloane  before  we 
were  born;  whose  tireless  intellect  has  been  a  confi- 
dant of  Nature,  a  playmate  of  the  Lightning  and  an 
inventor  of  ingenious  and  useful  things;  whose  wisdom 
has  given  to  Philadelphia  a  public  library,  a  work 
house,  good  paving,  excellent  schools,  a  protection 
against  fire  as  efficient  as  any  in  the  world  and  the  best 
newspaper  in  the  colonies.  Good  health  and  long  life 
to  him  and  may  his  love  of  the  old  sod  increase  with 
his  years." 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  expressions  of  approval, 
and  Franklin  only  arose  and  bowed  and  briefly  spoke 
his  acknowledgments  in  a  single  sentence,  and  then 
added : 

"Lord  Howe  can  assure  you  that  public  men  receive 
more  praise  and  more  blame  than  they  really  merit.  I 
have  heard  much  said  for  and  against  Benjamin 
Franklin,  but  there  could  be  no  better  testimony  in  his 
favor  than  the  good  opinion  of  Lord  Howe,  for  which 
I  can  never  cease  to  be  grateful.  For  years  I  have  been 


I3o     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

weighing  the  evidence,  and  my  verdict  is  that  Frank- 
lin has  meant  well." 

He  said  to  Jack  that  he  felt  the  need  of  being  "as 
discreet  as  a  tombstone." 

A  member  of  that  party  has  told  in  his  memoirs  how 
he  kept  the  ladies  laughing  with  his  merry  jests,  -^l? 

"I  see  by  The  Observer  they  are  going  to  open  cod 
and  whale  fisheries  in  the  great  lakes  of  the  North- 
west," Lady  Howe  said  to  him. 

He  answered  very  gently :  "Your  Ladyship,  has  it 
never  occurred  to  you  that  it  would  be  a  sublime  spec- 
tacle to  stand  at  the  foot  of  the  great  falls  of  Niagara 
and  see  the  whales  leaping  over  them  ?" 

"What  do  you  regard  as  your  most  important  dis- 
covery?" one  of  the  ladies  inquired. 

"Well,  first,  I  naturally  think  of  the  hospitality  of 
this  house  and  the  beauty  and  charm  of  the  Lady  Howe 
and  her  friends,"  Franklin  answered  with  characteris- 
tic diplomacy.  "Then  there  is  this  wine,"  he  added, 
lifting  his  glass.  "Its  importance  is  as  great  as  its  age 
and  this  is  old  enough  to  command  even  my  venera- 
tion. It  reminds  me  of  another  discovery  of  mine :  the 
value  of  the  human  elbow.  I  was  telling  the  King's 
physician  of  that  this  morning  and  it  seemed  to  amuse 
him.  But  for  the  human  elbow  every  person  would 
need  a  neck  longer  than  that  of  a  goose  to  do  his  eat- 
ing and  drinking." 

"I  had  never  thought  of  that,"  Lady  Howe  laugh- 


THE  DAWN  131 

ingly  answered.  "It  surely  does  have  some  effect  on 
one's  manners." 

"And  his  personal  appearance  and  the  cost  of  his 
neckwear,"  said  Franklin.  "Here  is  another  discov- 
ery." 

He  took  a  leathern  case  from  his  pocket  and  re- 
moved from  it  a  sealed  glass  tube  half  full  of  a  color- 
less liquid. 

"Kindly  hold  that  in  your  hand  and  see  what  hap- 
pens," he  said  to  Lady  Howe.  "It  contains  plain 
water." 

In  half  a  moment  the  water  began  to  boil. 

"It  shows  how  easily  water  boils  in  a  vacuum,"  said 
Franklin  as  the  ladies  were  amusing  themselves  with 
this  odd  toy.  "It  enables  us  to  understand  why  a  lit- 
tle heat  produces  great  agitation  in  certain  intellects," 
he  added. 

"Doctor,  we  are  neglecting  politics,"  said  Lord 
Hyde.  "You  lay  much  stress  upon  thrift.  Do  you 
not  agree  with  me  that  a  man  who  has  not  the  judg- 
ment to  practise  thrift  and  acquire  property  has  not 
the  judgment  to  vote?" 

"Property  is  all  right,  but  let's  make  it  stay  in  its 
own  stall,"  said  Franklin.  "It  should  never  be  a  quali- 
fication of  the  voter,  because  it  would  lead  us  up  to 
this  dilemma:  if  I  have  a  jackass  I  can  vote.  If  the 
jackass  dies  I  can  not  vote.  Therefore,  my  vote  would 
represent  the  jackass  and  not  me." 


1 32     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

The  dinner  over,  Lady  Howe  conducted  Doctor 
Franklin  to  the  library,  where  she  asked  him  to  sit 
down.  There  were  no  other  persons  in  the  room.  She 
sat  near  him  and  began  to  speak  of  the  misfortunes 
of  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay. 

"Your  Ladyship,  we  are  all  alike,"  he  answered.  "I 
have  never  seen  a  man  who  could  not  bear  the  mis- 
fortunes of  another  like  a  Christian.  The  trouble  is 
our  ministers  find  it  too  easy  to  bear  them." 

"I  wish  you  would  speak  with  Lord  Howe  frankly 
of  these  troubles.  He  is  just  by.  Will  you  give  me 
leave  to  send  for  him?" 

"By  all  means,  madame,  if  you  think  best." 

Lord  Howe  joined  them  in  a  moment.  He  was 
most  polite. 

"I  am  sensible  of  the  fact  that  you  have  been  mis- 
treated by  the  ministry,"  he  said.  "I  have  not  ap- 
proved of  their  conduct.  I  am  unconnected  with  those 
men  save  through  personal  friendships.  My  zeal  for 
the  public  welfare  is  my  only  excuse  for  asking  you 
to  open  your  mind." 

Lady  Howe  arose  and  offered  to  withdraw. 
.  "Your  Ladyship,  why  not  honor  us  with  your  pres- 
ence?" Franklin  asked.  "For  my  part  I  can  see  no 
reason  for  making  a  secret  of  a  business  of  this  na- 
ture. As  to  His  Lordship's  mention  of  my  mistreat- 
ment, that  done  my  country  is  so  much  greater  I  dis- 
miss all  thought  of  the  other.  From  the  King's  speech 
I  judge  that  no  accommodation  can  be  expected." 


THE  DAWN  133 

"The  plan  is  now  to  send  a  commission  to  the  col- 
onies, as  you  have  urged,"  said  His  Lordship. 

Then  said  Lady  Howe:  "I  wish,  my  brother 
Franklin,  that  you  were  to  be  sent  thither.  I  should 
like  that  much  better  than  General  Howe's  going  to 
command  the  army  there." 

A  rather  tense  moment  followed.  Franklin  broke 
its  silence  by  saying  in  a  gentle  tone : 

"I  think,  madame,  they  should  provide  the  General 
with  more  honorable  employment.  I  beg  that  your 
Ladyship  will  not  misjudge  me.  I  am  not  capable  of 
taking  an  office  from  this  government  while  it  is  act- 
ing with  so  much  hostility  toward  my  country." 

"The  ministers  have  the  opinion  that  you  can  com- 
pose the  situation  if  you  will,"  Lord  Howe  declared. 
"Many  of  us  have  unbounded  faith  in  your  ability.  I 
would  not  think  of  trying  to  influence  your  judgment 
by  a  selfish  motive,  but  certainly  you  may,  with  reason, 
expect  any  reward  which  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  gov- 
ernment to  bestow." 

Then  came  an  answer  which  should  live  in  history, 
as  one  of  the  great  credits  of  human  nature,  and  all 
men,  especially  those  of  English  blood,  should  feel  a 
certain  pride  in  it.  The  answer  was : 

"Your  Lordship,  I  am  not  looking  for  rewards,  but 
only  for  justice." 

"Let  us  try  to  agree  as  to  what  is  the  justice  of  the 
matter,"  Howe  answered.  "Will  you  not  draft  a  plan 
on  which  you  would  be  willing  to  cooperate?" 


I34     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"That  I  will  be  glad  to  do." 

Persisting  in  his  mis  judgment,  Howe  suggested : 

"As  you  have  friends  here  and  constituents  in 
America  to  keep  well  with,  perhaps  it  would  better  not 
be  in  your  handwriting.  Send  it  to  Lady  Howe  and 
she  will  copy  it  and  return  the  original." 

Then  said  the  sturdy  old  Yankee:  "I  desire,  my 
friends,  that  there  shall  be  no  secrecy  about  it." 

Lord  and  Lady  Howe  showed  signs  of  great  disap- 
pointment as  he  bade  them  good  night  and  begged  to 
be  sent  to  his  room. 

"I  am  growing  old,  and  have  to  ask  for  like  indul- 
gence from  every  hostess,"  he  pleaded. 

Howe  was  not  willing  to  leave  a  stone  unturned. 
He  could  not  dismiss  the  notion  from  his  mind  that 
the  purchase  could  be  effected  if  the  bid  were  raised. 
He  drew  the  Doctor  aside  and  said : 

"We  do  not  expect  your  assistance  without  proper 
consideration.  I  shall  insist  upon  generous  and  ample 
appointments  for  the  men  you  take  with  you  and  espe- 
cially for  you  as  well  as  a  firm  promise  of  subsequent 
rewards/' 

What  crown  had  he  in  mind  for  the  white  and  ven- 
erable brow  of  the  man  who  stood  before  him?  Be- 
neath that  brow  was  a  new  type  of  statesman,  born  of 
the  hardships  and  perils  and  high  faith  of  a  new 
world,  and  then  and  there  as  these  two  faced  each 
other — the  soul  of  the  past  and  the  soul  of  the  future— 
a  moment  was  come  than  which  there  had  been  no 


THE  DAWN  135 

greater  in  human  history.  In  America,  France  and 
England  the  cocks  had  been  crowing  and  now  the  first 
light  of  the  dawn  of  a  new  day  fell  upon  the  figure  of 
the  man  who  in  honor  and  understanding  towered 
above  his  fellows.  Now,  for  a  moment,  on  the  char- 
acter of  this  man  the  unfathomable  plan  of  God  for 
future  ages  would  seem  to  have  been  resting. 

In  his  sixty-eight  years  he  had  discovered,  among 
other  things,  the  vanity  of  wrealth  and  splendor.  It 
was  no  more  to  him  than  the  idle  wind.  These  are 
his  exact  words  as  he  stood  with  a  gentle  smile  on  his 
face :  "If  you  wish  to  use  me,  give  me  the  propositions 
and  dismiss  all  thought  of  rewards  from  your  mind. 
They  would  destroy  the  influence  you  propose  to  use." 

Howe,  a  good  man  as  men  went  those  days,  had  got 
beyond  his  depth.  His  philosophy  comprehended  no 
such  mystery.  What  manner  of  man  was  this  son  of  a 
soap  boiler  who  had  smiled  and  shaken  his  white  head 
and  spoken  like  a  kindly  father  to  the  folly  of  a  child 
when  these  offers  of  wealth  and  honor  and  power  had 
been  made  to  him  ?  Did  he  not  understand  that  it  was 
really  the  King  who  had  spoken  ? 

The  old  gentleman  climbed  the  great  staircase  and 
went  to  his  chamber,  while  Lord  Howe  was,  no  doubt, 
communicating  the  result  of  his  interview  to  his  other 
guests.  There  were  those  among  them  who  freely  pre- 
dicted that  war  was  inevitable. 

In  the  morning  at  eight  o'clock  Franklin  rode  into 
town  with  Lord  Howe.  They  discussed  the  motion  of 


136    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

the  Prime  Minister  under  the  terms  of  which  the  col- 
onies were  to  pay  money  into  the  British  Treasury 
until  Parliament  should  decide  they  had  paid  enough. 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  Franklin.  "No  chance  is 
offered  us  to  judge  the  propriety  of  the  measure  or  our 
ability  to  pay.  These  grants  are  demanded  under  a 
claimed  right  to  tax  us  at  pleasure  and  compel  pay- 
ments by  armed  force.  Your  Lordship,  it  is  like  the 
proposition  of  a  highwayman  who  presents  a  pistol  at 
the  window  of  your  coach  and  demands  enough  to 
satisfy  his  greed — no  specific  sum  being  named — or 
there  is  the  pistol." 

"You  are  a  most  remarkable  man,  but  you  do  not 
understand  the  government,"  said  His  Lordship.  "You 
will  not  let  yourself  see  the  other  side  of  the  proposi- 
tion. You  are  highly  esteemed  in  America  and  if  you 
could  but  see  the  justice  of  our  claim  you  would  be  as 
highly  esteemed  here  and  honored  and  rewarded  far 
beyond  any  expectation  you  are  likely  to  have." 

"If  any  one  supposes  that  I  could  prevail  upon  my 
countrymen  to  take  black  for  white  or  wrong  for  right, 
he  does  not  know  them  or  me,"  said  Franklin.  "My 
people  are  incapable  of  being  so  imposed  upon  and  I 
am  incapable  of  attempting  it." 

Next  evening  came  the  good  Doctor  Barclay,  a 
friend  of  Franklin,  and  a  noted  philanthropist.  They 
played  chess  together,  and  after  the  game,  while  they 
were  draining  glasses  of  Madeira,  the  philanthropist 
said: 


THE  DAWN  137 

"Here's  to  peace  and  good  will  between  England 
ind  her  colonies.  The  prosperity  of  both  depends 
upon  it." 

They  drank  the  toast  and  then  Barclay  proposed : 

"Let  us  use  our  efforts  to  that  end.  Power  is  a  great 
thing  to  have  and  the  noblest  gift  a  government  can 
bestow  is  within  your  reach. " 

"Barclay,  this  is  what  I  would  call  spitting  in  the 
soup,"  said  Franklin.  "It's  excellent  soup,  too.  I  am 
sure  the  ministry  would  rather  give  me  a  seat  in  a  cart 
to  Tyburn  than  any  other  place  whatever.  I  would 
despise  myself  if  I  needed  an  inducement  to  serve  a 
great  cause." 

The  philanthropist  entered  upon  a  wearisome  argu- 
ment, which  lasted  for  nearly  an  hour. 

"Barclay,  your  opinions  on  this  problem  remind 
me  of  the  iron  money  of  Lycurgus,"  observed 
Franklin. 

The  philanthropist  desired  to  know  why. 

"Because  of  their  bulk.  A  cart  load  of  them  is  not 
worth  a  shilling." 

In  all  parts  of  Britain  those  days  one  heard  much 
ridicule  of  the  New  England  home  and  conscience. 
Now  the  ministry  and  its  friends  had  begun  to  butt 
their  heads  against  the  immovable  wall  of  character 
which  had  grown  out  of  them  and  of  which  Lord 
Chatham  had  said : 

"It  has  made  certain  of  our  able  men  look  like  school 
boys." 


138    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

2 

There  was  at  that  time  a  man  of  great  power  whose 
voice  spoke  for  the  soul  of  England.  He  had  studied 
the  spirit  of  the  New  World  and  probed  to  its  founda- 
tions. He  will  help  us  to  understand  the  new  diplo- 
macy which  had  filled  the  ministers  with  astonishment. 

The  same  week  Jack  was  invited  to  breakfast  with 
Mr.  Edmund  Burke  and  Doctor  Franklin.  He  was 
awed  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  massive,  trumpet-tongued 
orator  and  statesman. 

He  writes :  "Burke  has  a  most  ungainly  figure.  His 
gait  is  awkward,  his  gestures  clumsy,  his  eyes  are  cov- 
ered with  large  spectacles.  He  is  careless  of  his  dress. 
His  pockets  bulged  with  papers.  He  spoke  rapidly  and 
with  a  strong  Irish  brogue.  Power  is  the  thing  his 
face  and  form  express.  His  knowledge  is  astound- 
ing. It  is  easy  to  talk  with  Franklin,  but  /  could  not 
talk  with  him.  He  humbled  and  embarrassed  me.  His 
words  shone  as  they  fell  from  his  lips.  I  can  give  you 
but  a  feeble  notion  of  them.  This  was  his  idea,  but  I 
remember  only  a  few  of  his  glowing  words : 

"  'I  fancy  that  man,  like  most  other  inventions,  was, 
at  first,  a  disappointment.  There  seems  to  have  been 
some  doubt,  for  a  time,  as  to  whether  the  contrivance 
could  be  made  to  work.  In  fact,  there  is  good  ground 
for  believing  that  it  wouldn't  work. 

"  'It  was  a  failure.  The  tendency  to  indolence  and 
folly  had  to  be  overcome.  Sundry  improvements  were 
necessary.  An  imagination  and  the  love  of  adventure 


THE  DAWN  139 

were  added  to  the  great  machine.  They  were  the 
things  needed.  Not  all  the  friction  of  hardship  and 
peril  could  stop  it  then.  From  that  time,  as  they  say 
in  business,  man  was  a  paying  institution. 

"  'The  lure  of  adventure  led  to  the  discovery  of  law 
and  truth.  The  best  child  of  adventure  is  revelation. 
Man  is  so  fashioned  that  if  he  can  see  a  glimmer  of 
the  truth  he  seeks,  he  will  make  for  it  no  matter  what 
may  be  in  his  way.  The  promise  of  an  exciting  time 
solves  the  problem  of  help.  America  was  born  of  sub- 
lime faith  and  a  great  adventure — the  greatest  in  his- 
tory— that  of  the  three  caravels.  High  faith  is  the 
great  need  of  the  world.  Columbus  had  it,  and  I  think, 
sir,  that  the  Pilgrims  had  it  and  that  the  same  quality 
of  faith  is  in  you.  In  these  dark  years  you  are  like 
the  lanterns  of  Pharus  to  your  people. 

f  'When  prodigious  things  are  to  be  done,  how  care- 
fully men  are  prepared  and  chosen  for  their  doing!' 

"He  said  many  things,  but  these  words  addressed 
to  my  venerable  friend  impressed  me  deeply.  It  oc- 
curs to  me  that  Burke  has  been  chosen  to  speak  for  the 
soul  of  Britain. 

"When  we  think  of  the  choosing  of  God,  who  but 
the  sturdy  yeomen  of  our  mother  land  could  have  with- 
stood the  inhospitalities  of  the  New  World  and  estab- 
lished its  spirit! 

"Now  their  Son,  Benjamin  Franklin,  full  grown  in 
the  new  school  of  liberty,  has  been  chosen  of  God  to 
define  the  inalienable  rights  of  freemen.  I  think  the 


140    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

stage  is  being  set  for  the  second  great  adventure  in 
our  history.  Let  us  have  no  fear  of  it.  Our  land  is 
sown  with  the  new  faith.  It  can  not  fail." 

This  conviction  was  the  result  of  some  rather  full 
days  in  the  British  capital. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN   APPOINTMENT  AND  A   CHALLENGE 

SOLOMON  BINKUS  had  left  the  city  with  Preston  to 
visit  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  in  his  country  seat,  near 
London.  Sir  Benjamin  had  taken  Jack  to  dine  with 
him  at  two  of  his  clubs  and  after  dining  they  had  gone 
to  see  the  great  actor  Robert  Bensley  as  Malvolio  and 
the  Comedian  Dodd  as  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek.  The 
Britisher  had  been  most  polite,  but  had  seemed  stu- 
diously to  avoid  mention  of  the  subject  nearest  the 
heart  of  the  young  man.  After  that  the  latter  was 
invited  to  a  revel  and  a  cock  fight,  but  declined  the 
honor  and  went  to  spend  an  evening  with  his  friend, 
the  philosopher.  For  days  Franklin  had  been  shut 
in  with  gout.  Jack  had  found  him  in  his  room  with 
one  of  his  feet  wrapped  in  bandages  and  resting  on  a 
chair. 

"I  am  glad  you  came,  my  son/'  -said  the  good  Doc- 
tor. "I  am  in  need  of  better  company  than  this  foot. 
Solitude  is  like  water — good  for  a  dip,  but  you  can  not 
live  in  it.  Margaret  has  been  here  trying  to  give  me 
comfort,  although  she  needs  it  more  for  herself." 

"Margaret!"  the  boy  exclaimed.  "Why  does  she 
need  comfort?" 

"Oh,  largely  on  your  account,  my  son !  Her  father 
141 


142     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

is  obdurate  and  the  cause  is  clear  to  me.  This  court- 
ship of  yours  is  taking  an  international  aspect." 

He  gave  his  young  friend  a  full  account  of  the  night 
at  Lord  Howe's  and  the  interviews  which  had  fol- 
lowed it. 

"All  London  knows  how  I  stand  now.  They  will 
not  try  again  to  bribe  me.  The  displeasure  of  Sir  Ben- 
jamin will  react  upon  you." 

"What  shall  I  do  if  he  continues  to  be  obdurate  ?" 

"Shove  my  table  this  way  and  I'll  show  you  a  prob- 
lem in  prudential  algebra,"  said  the  philosopher.  "It's 
a  way  I  have  of  setting  down  all  the  factors  and 
striking  out  those  that  are  equal  and  arriving  at  the 
risible  result." 

With  his  pen  and  a  sheet  of  paper  he  set  down  the 
factors  in  the  problem  and  his  estimate  of  their  rela- 
tive value  as  follows : 

The  Problem. 

A   fatKor  — V'  Margaret,    her   mother   and    Jaokrr  .3+     1 

A  patry^ony-jX  Happiness    for  Jack    and    Margaret  =  100 -f  9O 

Margarfl'g   old    fi/rnda— ^      Mandrel's    n/w    fri/nds=  f 

A  ftttfc^'a  love=/  A    husband's    love  =  10+      '•> 

A  fatt^'g  tyrannyo-^        Voor    respect   for    buman   rights  r:  5+     G 

100 


"Now  there  is  the  problem,  and  while  we  may  differ 
on  the  estimates,  I  think  that  most  sane  Americans 
would  agree  that  the  balance  is  overwhelmingly  in 


AN  APPOINTMENT  AND  A  CHALLENGE    143 

favor  of  throwing  off  the  yoke  of  tyranny,  and  assert- 
ing your  rights,  established  by  agreement  as  well  as 
by  nature.  In  a  like  manner  I  work  out  all  my  impor- 
tant problems,  so  that  every  factor  is  visible  and  sub- 
ject to  change. 

"I  only  fear  that  I  may  not  be  able  to  provide  for  her 
in  a  suitable  manner,"  said  Jack. 

"Oh,  you  are  well  off,"  said  the  philosopher.  "You 
have  some  capital  and  recognized  talent  and  occupation 
for  it.  When  I  reached  Philadelphia  I  had  an  empty 
stomach  and  also  a  Dutch  dollar,  a  few  pennies,  two 
soiled  shirts  and  a  pair  of  dirty  stockings  in  my  pock- 
ets. Many  years  passed  and  I  had  a  family  before  I 
was  as  well  off  as  you  are." 

Dinner  was  brought  in  and  Jack  ate  with  the  Doctor 
and  when  the  table  was  cleared  they  played  with  magic 
squares — an  invention  of  the  philosopher  with  which 
he  was  wont  to  divert  himself  and  friends  of  an  eve- 
ning. When  Jack  was  about  to  go,  the  Doctor  asked : 

"Will  you  hand  me  that  little  red  book  ?  I  wish  to 
put  down  a  credit  mark  for  my  conscience.  This  old 
foot  of  mine  has  been  rather  impudent  to-day.  There 
have  been  moments  when  I  could  have  expressed  my 
opinion  of  it  with  joyous  violence.  But  I  did  not.  I 
let  it  carry  on  like  a  tinker  in  a  public  house,  and  never 
said  a  word." 

He  showed  the  boy  an  interesting  table  containing 
the  days  of  the  week,  at  the  head  of  seven  columns, 
and  opposite  cross-columns  below  were  the  virtues  he 


144     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

aimed  to  acquire — patience,  temperance,  frugality  and 
the  like.  The  book  contained  a  table  for  every  week 
in  the  year.  It  had  been  his  practise,  at  the  end  of 
each  day,  to  enter  a  black  mark  opposite  the  virtues  in 
which  he  had  failed. 

It  was  a  curious  and  impressive  document — a  frank, 
candid  record  in  black  and  white  of  the  history  of  a 
human  soul.  To  Jack  it  had  a  sacred  aspect  like  the 
story  of  the  trials  of  Job. 

"I  begin  to  understand  how  you  have  built  up  this 
wonderful  structure  we  call  Franklin,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  it  is  but  a  poor  and  shaky  thing  at  best,  likely 
to  tumble  in  a  high  wind — but  some  work  has  gone 
into  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "You  see  these  white 
pages  are  rather  spotted,  but  when  I  look  over  the  his- 
tory of  my  spirit,  as  I  do  now  and  then,  I  observe  that 
the  pages  are  slowly  getting  cleaner.  There  is  not  so 
much  ink  on  them  as  there  used  to  be.  You  see  I  was 
once  a  free  thinker.  I  had  no  gods  to  bother  me,  and 
my  friends  were  of  the  same  stripe.  In  time  I  discov- 
ered that  they  were  a  lot  of  scamps  and  that  I  was  little 
better.  I  found  myself  in  the  wrong  road  and  imme- 
diately faced  about.  Then  I  began  keeping  these 
tables.  They  have  been  a  help  to  me." 

This  reminded  Jack  of  the  evil  words  of  the  melan- 
choly Mr.  Pinhorn  which  had  been  so  promptly  re- 
buked by  his  friend  John  Adams  on  the  ride  to  Phila- 
delphia. The  young  man  made  a  copy  of  one  of  the 


AN  APPOINTMENT  AND  A  CHALLENGE    145 

tables  and  was  saying  good  night  to  his  venerable 
friend  when  the  latter  remarked : 

"I  shall  go  to  Sir  John  Pringle's  in  the  morning  for 
advice.  He  is  a  noted  physician.  My  man  will  be 
having  a  day  off.  Could  you  go  with  me  at  ten?" 

"Gladly,"  said  Jack. 

"Then  I  shall  pick  you  up  at  your  lodgings.  You 
will  see  your  rival  at  Pringle's.  He  is  at  home  on 
leave  and  has  been  going  to  Sir  John's  office  every 
Tuesday  morning  at  ten-thirty  with  his  father,  General 
Clarke,  a  gruff,  gouty  old  hero  of  the  French  and  In- 
dian wars  and  an  aggressive  Tory.  He  is  forever  toss- 
ing and  goring  the  Whigs.  It  may  be  the  only  chance 
you  will  have  to  see  that  rival  of  yours.  He  is  a  hand- 
some lad." 

Doctor  Franklin,  with  his  crutch  beside  him  in  the 
cab,  called  for  his  young  friend  at  the  hour  appointed. 

"I  go  to  his  office  when  I  have  need  of  his  advice," 
said  the  Doctor.  "If  ever  he  came  to  me,  the  wretch 
would  charge  me  two  guineas.  We  have  much  argu- 
ment over  the  processes  of  life  in  the  human  body,  of 
which  I  have  gained  some  little  knowledge.  Often  he 
flatters  me  by  seeking  my  counsel  in  difficult  cases." 

The  office  of  the  Doctor  Baronet  was  on  the  first 
floor  of  a  large  building  in  Gough  Square,  Fleet  Street. 
A  number  of  gentlemen  sat  in  comfortable  chairs  in 
a  large  waiting  room. 

"Sir  John  will  see  you  in  a  moment,  sir,"  an  at- 


146    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

tendant  said  to  Doctor  Franklin  as  they  entered.  The 
moment  was  a  very  long  one. 

"In  London  there  are  many  people  who  disagree 
with  the  clock,"  Franklin  laughed.  "In  this  office,  even 
the  moments  have  the  gout.  They  limp  along  with 
slow  feet." 

It  was  a  gloomy  room.  The  chairs,  lounges  and 
tables  had  a  venerable  look  like  that  of  the  men  who 
came  there  with  warped  legs  and  old  mahogany  faces. 
The  red  rugs  and  hangings  suggested  "the  effect  of  old 
port  on  the  human  countenance,  being  of  a  hue  like 
unto  that  of  many  cheeks  and  noses  in  the  waiting 
company,"  as  the  young  man  wrote.  The  door  to  the 
private  room  of  the  great  physician  creaked  on  its 
hinges  with  a  kind  of  groan  when  he  came  out  accom- 
panied by  a  limping  patient. 

"Wait  here  for  a  minute — a  gout  minute,"  said 
Franklin  to  his  young  friend.  "When  Pringle  dis- 
misses me,  I  will  present  you." 

Jack  sat  and  waited  while  the  room  filled  with 
ruddy,  crotchety  gentlemen  supported  by  canes  or 
crutches — elderly,  old  and  of  middle  age.  Among 
those  of  the  latter  class  was  a  giant  of  a  man,  erect 
and  dignified,  accompanied  by  a  big  blond  youngster 
in  a  lieutenant's  uniform.  He  sat  down  and  began 
to  talk  with  another  patient  of  the  troubles  in  America. 

"I  see  the  damned  Yankees  have  thrown  another 
cargo  of  tea  overboard,"  said  he  in  a  tone  of  anger. 


AN  APPOINTMENT  AND  A  CHALLENGE    147 

'This  time  it  was  in  Cape  Cod.  We  must  give  those 
Yahoos  a  lesson." 

Jack  surmised  now  that  here  was  the  aggressive 
Tory  General  of  whom  the  Doctor  had  spoken  and  that 
the  young  man  was  his  son. 

"I  fear  that  it  would  be  a  costly  business  sending 
men  to  fight  across  three  thousand  miles  of  sea,"  said 
the  other. 

"Bosh !  There  is  not  one  Yankee  in  a  hundred  that 
has  the  courage  of  a  rabbit.  With  a  thousand  British 
grenadiers,  I  would  undertake  to  go  from  one  end  of 
America  to  another  and  amputate  the  heads  of  the 
males,  partly  by  force  and  partly  by  coaxing." 

A  laugh  followed  these  insulting  words.  Jack  Irons 
rose  quickly  and  approached  the  man  who  had  uttered 
them.  The  young  American  was  angry,  but  he  man- 
aged to  say  with  good  composure : 

"I  am  an  American,  sir,  and  I  demand  a  retraction 
of  those  words  or  a-  chance  to  match  my  courage 
against  yours." 

A  murmur  of  surprise  greeted  his  challenge. 

The  Britisher  turned  quickly  with  color  mounting 
to  his  brow  and  surveyed  the  sturdy  form  of  the  young 
man. 

"I  take  back  nothing  that  I  say,"  he  declared. 

"Then,  in  behalf  of  my  slandered  countrymen,  I  de- 
mand the  right  to  fight  you  or  any  Britisher  who  has 
the  courage  to  take  up  your  quarrel." 


148    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Jack  Irons  had  spoken  calmly  like  one  who  had 
weighed  his  words. 

The  young  Lieutenant  who  had  entered  the  room 
.with  the  fiery,  middle-aged  Britisher,  rose  and  faced 
the  American  and  said : 

"I  will  take  up  his  quarrel,  sir.    Here  is  my  card." 

"And  here  is  mine,"  said  Jack.  "When  will  you  be 
at  home  ?" 

"At  noon  to-morrow." 

"Some  friend  of  mine  will  call  upon  you,"  Jack  as- 
sured the  other. 

A  look  of  surprise  came  to  the  face  of  the  Lieutenant 
as  he  surveyed  the  card  in  his  hand.  Jack  was  pre- 
pared for  the  name  he  read  which  was  that  of  Lionel 
Clarke. 

Franklin  wrote  some  weeks  later  in  a  letter  to  John 
Irons  of  Albany :  "When  I  came  out  of  the  physi- 
cian's office  I  saw  nothing  in  Jack's  face  and  manner 
to  suggest  the  serious  proceeding  he  had  entered  upon. 
If  I  had,  or  if  some  one  had  dropped  a  hint  to  me,  I 
should  have  done  what  I  could  to  prevent  this  unfor- 
tunate affair.  He  chatted  with  Sir  John  a  moment 
and  we  went  out  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 
On  the  way  to  my  house  we  talked  of  the  good  weather 
we  were  having,  of  the  late  news  from  America  and  of 
my  summons  to  appear  before  the  Privy  Council.  He 
betrayed  no  sign  of  the  folly  which  was  on  foot.  I  saw 
him  only  once  after  he  helped  me  into  the  house  and 
left  me  to  go  to  his  lodgings.  But  often  I  find  myself 


AN  APPOINTMENT  AND  A  CHALLENGE    149 

thinking  of  his  handsome  face  and  heroic  figure  and 
gentle  voice  and  hand.  He  was  like  a  loving  son 
to  me." 

2 

That  evening  Solomon  arrived  with  Preston. 

Solomon  gave  a  whistle  of  relief  as  he  entered  their 
lodgings  on  Bloomsbury  Square  and  dropped  into  a 
chair. 

"Wai,  sir!  We  been  flyin'  eround  as  brisk  as  a 
bee,"  he  remarked.  "I  feel  as  if  I  had  spraint  one  leg 
and  spavined  t'other.  The  sun  was  over  the  fore  yard 
when  we  got  back,  and  since  then,  we  went  to  see  the 
wild  animals,  a  hip'pottermas,  an'  lions,  an'  tigers,  an' 
snakes,  an'  a  bird  with  a  neck  as  long  as  a  hoe  handle, 
an'  a  head  like  a  tommyhawk.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
he  could  peck  some,  an'  they  say  he  can  fetch  a  kick 
that  would  knock  a  hoss  down.  Gosh !  I  kind  o'  felt 
fer  my  gun!  Gol  darn  his  pictur' !  Think  o'  bein' 
kicked  by  a  bird  an'  havin'  to  be  picked  up  an'  carried 
off  to  be  mended.  We  took  a  long,  crooked  trail  hum 
an'  walked  all  the  way.  It's  kind  o'  hard  footinV 

Solomon  spoke  with  the  animation  of  a  boy.  At  last 
he  had  found  something  in  London  which  had  pleased 
and  excited  him. 

"Did  you  have  a  good  time  at  Sir  Jeffrey's?"  the 
young  man  asked. 

"Better'n  a  barn  raisin'!  Say,  hones',  I  never  seen 
nothin'  like  it — 'twere  so  blandiferous!  At  fust  I  were 
a  leetle  bit  like  a  man  tied  to  a  tree — felt  so  helpless 


150    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

an'  unsart'in.  Didn't  know  what  were  goin'  to  hap- 
pen. Then  ol'  Jeff  come  an'  ontied  me,  as  ye  might 
say,  an'  I  'gun  to  feel  right.  'Course  Preston  tol'  me 
not  to  be  skeered — that  the  doin's  would  be  friendly, 
an'  they  was.  Gol  darn  my  pictur' !  I'll  bet  a  pint  o' 
powder  an'  a  fish  hook  thar  ain't  no  nicer  womern  in 
this  world  than  ol'  Jeff's  wife — not  one.  I  give  her  my 
jack-knife.  She  ast  me  fer  it.  'Twere  a  good  knife,' 
but  I  were  glad  to  give  it  to  her.  Gosh !  I  dunno  what 
she  wants  to  do  with  it.  Mebbe  she  likes  to  whittle. 
They's  some  does.  I  kind  o'  like  it  myself.  I  warned 
her  to  be  keerful  not  to  cut  herself  'cause  'twere 
sharper'n  the  tooth  o'  a  weasel.  The  vittles  was  tasty 
— no  common  ven'son  er  moose  meat,  but  the  best  roast 
beef,  an'  mutton,  an'  ham  an'  jest  'nough  Santa  Cruz 
rum  to  keep  the  timber  floatin' !  They  snickered  when 
I  tolj  'em  I'd  take  my  tea  bar'  foot.  I  set  'mongst  a 
lot  o'  young  folks,  mostly  gals,  full  o'  laugh  an'  ginger, 
an'  as  purty  to  look  at  as  a  flock  o'  red  birds,  an'  I  sot 
thar  tellin'  stories  'bout  the  Injun  wars,  an'  bear,  an' 
moose,  an'  painters  till  the  moon  were  down  an'  a 
clock  hollered  one.  Then  I  let  each  o'  them  gals  snip 
off  a  grab  o'  my  hair.  I  dunno  what  they  wanted  to  do 
with  it,  but  they  'pear  to  be  as  fond  o'  takin'  hair  as 
Injuns.  Mebbe  'twas  fer  good  luck.  I  wouldn't  won- 
der if  my  head  looks  like  it  was  shingled.  Ayes!  I 
had  an  almighty  good  time. 

"These  'ere  British  is  good  folks  as  fur  as  I've  been 
able  to  look  'em  over.     It's  the  gov'ment  that's  down 


AN  APPOINTMENT  AND  A  CHALLENGE    15? 

i 

on  us  an'  the  gov'ment  ain't  the  people — you  hear  to 

me.  They's  lots  o'  good,  friendly  folks  here,  but  I'm 
ready  to  go  hum.  They's  a  ship  leaves  Dover  Thurs- 
day 'fore  sunrise  an'  my  name  is  put  down." 

Jack  told  them  in  detail  of  the  unfortunate  event  of 
the  morning. 

Solomon  whistled  while  his  face  began  to  get  ready 
for  a  shot. 

"Neevarious !"  he  exclaimed.  "Here's  suthin'  that'll 
have  to  be  'tended  to  'fore  I  take  the  water." 

"Clarke  is  full  of  hartshorn  and  vinegar,"  said  Pres- 
ton. "He  was  like  that  in  America.  He  could  make 
more  trouble  in  ten  minutes  than  a  regiment  could 
mend  in  a  year.  He  is  what  you  would  call  'a  mean 
cuss/  But  for  him  and  Lord  Cornwallis,  I  should  be 
back  in  the  service.  They  blame  me  for  the  present 
posture  of  affairs  in  America." 

"Jack,  I'm  glad  that  young  pup  ain't  me,"  said  Sol- 
omon. "Thar  never  was  a  man  better  cocalated  to 
please  a  friend  er  hurt  an  enemy.  If  he  was  to  say 
pistols  I  guess  that  ol'  sling  o'  yours  would  bu'st  out 
laughin'  an'  I  ain't  no  idee  he  could  stan'  a  minnit  in 
front  o'  your  hanger." 

"It's  bad  business,  and  especially  for  you,"  said 
Preston.  "Dueling  is  not  so  much  in  favor  here  as 
in  France.  Of  course  there  are  duels,  but  the  best  peo- 
ple in  England  are  set  against  the  practise.  You  would 
be  sure  to  get  the  worst  of  it.  The  old  General  is  a 
favorite  of  the  King.  He  is  booked  for  knighthoqd.  If 


152     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

you  were  to  kill  his  son  in  the  present  state  of  feeling 
here,  your  neck  would  be  in  danger.  If  you  were  to 
injure  him  you  would  have  to  make  a  lucky  escape,  or 
go  to  prison.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  outlook  for  one  who 
is  engaged  to  an  English  girl.  He  has  a  great  advan- 
tage over  you." 

"True,  but  it  gives  me  a  better  chance  to  vindicate 
the  courage  of  an  American.  I  shall  fight.  I  would 
rather  die  than  lie  down  to  such  an  insult.  There  has 
been  too  much  of  that  kind  of  talk  here.  It  can  not 
go  on  in  my  hearing  without  being  trumped.  If  I  were 
capable  of  taking  such  an  insult,  I  could  never  again 
face  the  girl  I  love.  There  must  be  an  apology  as  pub- 
lic as  the  insult  or  a  fight.  I  don't  want  to  kill  any 
man,  but  I  must  show  them  that  their  cap  doesn't 
fit  me." 

Jack  and  Solomon  sat  up  late.  The  young  man  had 
tried  to  see  Margaret  that  evening,  but  the  door  boy  at 
Sir  Benjamin's  had  informed  him  that  the  family  wa? 
not  at  home.  He  rightly  suspected  that  the  boy  had 
done  this  under  orders  from  the  Baronet.  He  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  the  girl  apprising  her  of  late  develop- 
ments in  the  relations  of  the  ministry  and  Doctor 
Franklin,  regarding  which  the  latter  desired  no  secrecy, 
and  of  his  own  unhappy  situation. 

"If  I  could  bear  such  an  insult  in  silence,"  he  added, 
"I  should  be  unworthy  of  the  fairest  and  dearest  giri 
on  earth.  With  such  an  estimate  of  you,  I  must  keep 
myself  in  good  countenance.  Whatever  happens,  be 


AN  APPOINTMENT  AND  A  CHALLENGE    153 

sure  that  I  am  loving  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  long- 
ing for  the  time  when  I  can  make  you  my  wife." 

This  letter  he  put  into  his  pocket  with  the  purpose 
of  asking  Preston  to  deliver  it  if  circumstances  should 
drive  him  out  of  England  or  into  prison. 

Captain  Preston  went  with  Solomon  Binkus  next 
day  to  the  address  on  the  card  of  Lieutenant  Clarke. 
It  was  the  house  of  the  General,  who  was- waiting  with 
his  son  in  the  reception  room.  They  walked  together 
to  the  Almack  Club.  The  General  was  self-contained. 
It  would  seem  that  his  bad  opinion  of  Yankees  was 
not  quite  so  comprehensive  as  it  had  been.  The  whole 
proceeding  went  forward  -with  the  utmost  polite- 
ness. 

"General,  Mr.  Binkus  and  John  Irons,  Jr.,  are  my 
friends,"  said  Captain  Preston. 

"Indeed !"  the  General  answered. 

"Yes,  and  they  are  friends  of  England.  They  saved 
my  neck  in  America.  I  have  assured  young  Irons  that 
your  words,  if  they  were  correctly  reported  to  me,  were 
spoken  in  haste,  and  that  they  do  not  express  your 
real  opinion." 

"And  what,  sir,  were  the  words  reported  to  you?" 
the  General  asked. 

Preston  repeated  them. 

"That  is  my  opinion." 

"It  is  mine  also,"  young  Clarke  declared. 

Solomon's  face  changed  quickly.  He  took  deliberate 
aim  at  the  enemy  and  drawled : 


154     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Can't  be  yer  opinion  is  wuth  more  than  the  lives 
o*  these  young  fellers  that's  goin'  to  fight." 

"Gentlemen,  you  will  save  time  by  dropping  all 
thought  of  apologies,"  said  the  General. 

"Then  it  only  remains  for  you  to  choose  your 
weapons  and  agree  with  us  as  to  time  and  place,"  said 
Preston. 

"I  choose  -pistols,"  said  the  young  Britisher.  "The 
time  and  place  may  suit  your  convenience,  so  it  be 
soon  and  not  too  far  away." 

"Let  us  say  the  cow  wallow  on  Shooter's  Hill,  near 
the  oaks,  at  sunrise  to-morrow,"  Preston  proposed. 

"I  agree,"  the  Lieutenant  answered. 

"Whatever  comes  of  it,  let  us  have  secrecy  and  all 
possible  protection  from  each  side  to  the  other  when 
the  affair  is  ended,"  said  Preston. 

"I  agree  to  that  also,"  was  the  answer  of  young 
Clarke. 

When  they  were  leaving,  Solomon  said  to  Preston: 
"That  'ere  Gin'ral  is  as  big  as  Goliar." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ENCOUNTER 

SOLOMON,  Jack  and  their  friend  left  London  that 
afternoon  in  the  saddle  and  took  lodgings  at  The  Rose 
and  Garter,  less  than  a  mile  from  the  scene  appointed 
for  the  encounter.  That  morning  the  Americans  had 
sent  a  friend  of  Preston  by  post  chaise  to  Deal,  with 
Solomon's  luggage.  Preston  had  also  engaged  the 
celebrated  surgeon,  Doctor  Brooks,  to  spend  the  night 
with  them  so  that  he  would  be  sure  to  be  on  hand  in 
the  morning.  The  doctor  had  officiated  at  no  less 
than  a  dozen,  duels  and  enjoyed  these  affairs  so  keenly 
that  he  was  glad  to  give  his  help  without  a  fee.  The 
party  had  gone  out  in  the  saddle  because  Preston  had 
said  that  the  horses  might  be  useful. 

So,  having  discussed  the  perils  of  the  immediate  fu- 
ture, they  had  done  all  it  was  in  their  power  to  do  to 
prepare  for  them.  Late  that  evening  the  General  and 
his  son  and  four  other  gentlemen  arrived  at  The  Rose 
and  Garter.  Certain  of  them  had  spent  the  afternoon 
in  the  neighborhood  shooting  birds  and  rabbits. 

Solomon  got  Jack  to  bed  early  and  sat  for  a  time  in 
their  room  tinkering  with  the  pistols.  When  the  locks 
were  working  "right,"  as  he  put  it,  he  polished  their 
grips  and  barrels. 

"Now  I  reckon  they'll  speak  out  when  ye  pull  the 
155 


156    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

trigger,"  he  said  to  Jack.  "An'  yer  eyesight  '11  skate 
erlong  easy  on  the  top  o'  them  bar'ls." 

"It's  a  miserable  kind  of  business,"  said  the  young 
man,  who  was  lying  in  bed  and  looking  at  his  friend. 
"We  Americans  have  a  rather  hard  time  of  it,  I  say. 
Life  is  a  fight  from  beginning  to  end.  We  have  had 
to  fight  with  the  wilderness  for  our  land  and  with  the 
Indians  and  the  French  for  our  lives,  and  now  the 
British  come  along  and  tell  us  what  we  must  and 
mustn't  do  and  burn  up  our  houses." 

"An'  spit  on  us  an'  talk  as  if  we  was  a  lot  o'  boar 
pigs,"  said  Solomon.  "But  ol'  Jeff  tol'  me  'twere  the 
King  an'  his  crowd  that  was  makin'  all  the  trouble." 

"Well,  the  King  and  his  army  can  make  us  trouble 
enough,"  Jack  answered.  "It's  as  necessary  for  an 
American  to  know  how  to  fight  as  to  know  how  to 
walk." 

"Now  ye  stop  worryin'  an'  go  to  sleep  'er  I'll  take 
ye  crost  my  knee,"  said  Solomon.  "They  ain't  goin' 
to  be  no  great  damage  done,  not  if  ye  do  as  I  tell  ye. 
I've  been  an'  looked  the  ground  over  an'  if  we  have  to 
leg  it,  I  know  which  way  to  go." 

Solomon  had  heard  from  Preston  that  evening  that 
the  Lieutenant  was  the  best  pistol  shot  in  his  regiment, 
but  he  kept  the  gossip  to  himself,  knowing  it  would  not 
improve  the  aim  of  his  young  friend.  But  Solomon 
was  made  uneasy  by  this  report. 

"My  boy  kin  throw  a  bullet  straight  as  a  plumb  line 
an'  quick  as  lightnin',"  he  had  said  to  Preston.  "It's 


THE  ENCOUNTER  157 

as  nat'ral  fer  him  as  drawin'  his  breath.  That  'ere 
chap  may  git  bored  'fore  he  has  time  to  pull.  I  ain't 
much  skeered." 

Jack  was  nervous,  although  not  from  fear.  His 
estimate  of  the  value  of  human  life  had  been  increased 
by  his  affection  for  Margaret.  When  Solomon  had 
gone  to  bed  and  the  lights  were  blown,  the  young  man 
felt  every  side  of  his  predicament  to  see  if  there  were 
any  peaceable  way  out  of  it.  For  hours  he  labored 
with  this  hopeless  task,  until  he  fell  into  a  troubled 
sleep,  in  which  he  saw  great  battalions  marching 
toward  each  other.  On  one  side,  the  figures  of  himself 
and  Solomon  were  repeated  thousands  of  times,  and 
on  the  other  was  a  host  of  Lionel  Clarkes. 

The  words  came  to  his  ear :  "My  son,  we're  goin' 
to  fight  the  first  battle  o'  the  war." 

Jack  awoke  suddenly  and  opened  his  eyes.  The  can- 
dle was  lighted.  Solomon  was  leaning  over  him.  He 
was  drawing  on  his  trousers. 

"Come,  my  son,"  said  the  scout  in  a  gentle  voice. 
"They  ain't  a  cloud  an'  the  moon  has  got  a  smile  on 
her  face.  Come,  my  young  David.  Here's  the  breeches 
an'  the  purty  stockin's  an'  shoes,  an'  the  lily  white 
shirt.  Slip  'em  on  an'  we'll  kneel  down  an'  have  a 
word  o'  prayer.  This  'ere  ain't  no  common  fight.  It's 
a  battle  with  tyranny.  It's  like  the  fight  o'  David  an' 
Goliar.  Here's  yer  ol'  sling  waitin'  fer  ye !" 

Solomon  felt  the  pistols  and  stroked  their  grips  with 
a  loving  hand. 


158     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Side  by  side  they  knelt  by  the  bed  together  for  a 
moment  of  silent  prayer. 

Others  were  stirring  in  the  inn.  They  could  hear 
footsteps  and  low  voices  in  a  room  near  them.  Jack 
put  on  his  suit  of  brown  velvet  and  his  white  silk  stock- 
ings and  best  linen,  which  he  had  brought  in  a  small 
bag.  Jack  was  looking  at  the  pistols,  when  there  came 
a  rap  'at  the  door.  Preston  entered  with  Doctor 
Brooks. 

"We  are  to  go  out  quietly  ahead  of  the  others/' 
said  the  Captain.  "They  will  follow  in  five  minutes." 

Solomon  had  put  on  the  old  hanger  which  had  come 
to  England  with  him  in  his  box.  He  put  the  pistols 
in  his  pocket  and  they  left  the  inn  by  a  rear  door.  A 
groom  was  waiting  there  with  the  horses  saddled  and 
bridled.  They  mounted  them  and  rode  to  the  field  of 
honor.  When  they  dismounted  on  the  ground  chosen, 
the  day  was  dawning,  but  the  great  oaks  were  still 
waist  deep  in  gloom.  It  was  cold. 

Preston  called  his  friends  to  his  side  and  said : 

"You  will  fight  at  twenty  paces.  I  shall  count  three 
and  when  I  drop  my  handkerchief  you  are  both  to 
fire." 

Solomon  turned  to  Jack  and  said : 

"If  ye  fire  quick  mebbe  ye'll  take  the  crook  out  o'  his 
finger  'fore  it  has  time  to  pull." 

The  other  party  was  coming.  There  were  six  men 
in  it.  The  General  and  his  son  and  one  other  were  in 
military  dress.  The  General  was  chatting  with  a 


THE  ENCOUNTER  159 

friend..  The  pistols  were  loaded  by  Solomon  and  Gen- 
eral Clarke,  while  each  watched  the  other.  The  Lieu- 
tenant's friends  and  seconds  stood  close  together 
laughing  at  some  jest. 

"That's  funny,  I'll  say,  what — what!"  said  one  of 
the  gentlemen. 

Jack  turned  to  look  at  him,  for  there  had  been  a 
curious  inflection  in  his  "what,  what !"  He  was  a  stout, 
highly  colored  man  with  large,  staring  gray  eyes.  The 
young  American  wondered  where  he  had  seen  him 
before. 

Preston  paced  the  ground  and  laid  down  strips  of 
white  ribband  marking  the  distance  which  was  to  sep- 
arate the  principals.  He  summoned  the  young  men 
and  said :  "Gentlemen,  is  there  no  way  in  which  your 
honor  can  be  satisfied  without  fighting?" 

They  shook  their  heads. 

"Your  stations  have  been  chosen  by  lot.  Irons, 
yours  is  there.  Take  your  ground,  gentlemen." 

The  young  men  walked  to  their  places  and  at  this 
point  the  graphic  Major  Solomon  Binkus,  whose  keen 
eyes  observed  every  detail  of  the  scene,  is  able  to  as- 
sume the  position  of  narrator,  the  words  which  fol- 
low being  from  a  letter  he  wrote  to  John  Irons  of 
Albany. 

"Our  young  David  stood  up  thar  as  straight  an' 
han'some  as  a  young  spruce  on  a  still  day — not  a 
quiver  in  ary  twig.  The  Clarke  boy  was  a  leetle  pale 
an'  when  he  raised  his  pistol  I  could  see  a  twitch  in  his 


160     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

lips.  He  looked  kind  o'  stiff.  I  see  they  was  one 
thing  'bout  shootin'  he  hadn't  learnt.  It  don't  do  to 
tighten  up.  I  were  skeered — I  don't  deny  it — 'cause  a 
gun  don't  allus  have  to  be  p'inted  careful  to  kill  a  man. 

"We  all  stood  watchin'  every  move.  I  could  hear  a 
bird  singin'  twenty  rod,— 'twere  that  still.  Preston 
stood  a  leetle  out  o'  line  'bout  half-way  betwixt  'em. 
Up  come  his  hand  with  the  han'kerchief  in  it.  Then 
Jack  raised  his  pistol  and  took  a  peek  down  the  line 
he  wanted.  The  han'kerchief  was  in  the  air.  Don't 
seem  so  it  had  fell  an  inch  when  the  pistols  went 
pop!  pop!  Jack's  hollered  fust.  Clarke's  pistol  fell. 
His  arm  dropped  an'  swung  limp  as  a  rope's  end. 
His  hand  turned  red  an'  blood  began  to  spurt  above 
it.  I  see  Jack's  bullet  had  jumped  into  his  right  wrist 
an'  tore  it  wide  open.  The  Lieutenant  staggered, 
bleediir  like  a  stuck  whale.  He'd  'a'  gone  to  the 
ground  but  his  friends  grabbed  him.  I  run  to  Jack. 

"  'Be  ye  hit  ?'  I  says. 

"  'I  think  his  bullet  teched  me  a  little  on  the  top  o1 
the  left  shoulder,'  says  he. 

"I  see  his  coat  were  tore  an'  we  took  it  off  an'  the 
jacket,  an'  I  ripped  the  shirt  some  an'  see  that  the 
bullet  had  kind  o'  scuffed  its  foot  on  him  goin'  by,  an' 
left  a  track  in  the  skin.  It  didn't  mount  to  nothin'. 
The  Doctor  washed  it  off  an'  put  a  plaster  on. 

"  'Looks  as  if  he'd  drawed  a  line  on  yer  heart  an' 
yer  bullet  had  lifted  his  aim/  I  says.  'Ye  shoot  quick, 
Jack,  an'  mebbe  that's  what  saved  ye.' 


THE  ENCOUNTER  161 

"It  looked  kind  o'  neevarious  like  that  'ere  English- 
man had  intended  they  was  goin1  to  be  one  Yankee 
less.  Jack  put  on  his  jacket  an'  his  coat  an'  we  stepped 
over  to  see  how  they  was  gettin'  erlong  with  the  other 
feller.  The  two  doctors  was  tryin'  fer  to  fix  his  arm 
and  he  were  groanin'  severe.  Jack  leaned  over  and 
looked  down  at  him. 

"  Tm  sorry/  he  says.  'Is  there  anything  I  can  do  ?' 

"  'No,  sir.  You've  done  enuff,'  growled  the  old 
General. 

"One  o'  his  party  stepped  up  to  Jack.  He  were 
dressed  like  a  high-up  officer  in  the  army.  They  was 
a  cur'ous  look  in  his  eyes — kind  o'  skeered  like. 
Seemed  so  I'd  seen  him  afore  somewheres. 

'  'I  fancy  ye're  a  good  shot,  sir — a  good  shot,  sir — 
what — what?'  he  says  to  Jack,  an'  the  words  come  as 
fast  as  a  bird's  twitter. 

"  T've  had  a  lot  o'  practise,'  says  our  boy. 

"'Kin  ye  kill  that  bird — what — what?"  says  he, 
p'intin'  at  a  hawk  that  were  a-cuttin'  circles  in  the 
air. 

"  'If  he  comes  clus'  'nough,'  says  Jack. 

"I  passed  him  the  loaded  pistol.  In  'bout  two  sec- 
onds he  lifted  it  and  bang  she  went,  an'  down  come 
the  hawk. 

"Them  fellers  all  looked  at  one  'nother. 

"  'Gin'ral,  shake  hands  with  this  'ere  boy,'  says  the 
man  with  the  skeered  eyes.  'If  he  is  a  Yankey  he's  a 
decent  lad — what — what?* 


162     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"The  Gin'ral  shook  hands  with  Jack  an',  says  he: 
'Young  man,  I  have  no  doubt  o'  yer  curidge  or  yer 
decency/ 

"A  grand  pair  o'  hosses  an'  a  closed  coach  druv  up 
an*  the  ol'  what-whatter  an'  two  other  men  got  into 
it  an'  hustled  off  'cross  the  field  towards  the  pike  which 
it  looked  as  if  they  was  in  a  hurry.  'Fore  he  were  out 
o'  sight  a  military  amb'lance  druv  up.  Preston  come 
over  to  us  an'  says  he: 

"  We  better  be  goinV 

'  'Do  ye  know  who  he  were  ?'  asks  Jack. 

"  'If  ye  know  ye  better  fergit  it,'  says  Preston. 

"  'How  could  I  ?     He  were  the  King  o'  England, 
says  Jack.    'I  knowed  him  by  the  look  o'  his  eyes.' 

"  'Sart'in  sure/  says  I.  'He's  the  man  that  wu? 
bein'  toted  in  a  chair/ 

"  'Hush!    I  tell  ye  to  fergit  it/  says  Preston. 

"  'I  can  fergit  all  but  the  fact  that  he  behaved  like  ? 
gentleman/  says  Jack. 

"  'I  'spose  he  were  usin'  his  private  brain/  says  I." 

This,  with  some  slight  changes  in  spelling,  para- 
graphing and  punctuation,  is  the  account  which  Solo- 
mon Binkus  gave  of  the  most  exciting  adventure  these 
two  friends  had  met  with. 

Preston  came  to  Jack  and  whispered:  "The  out- 
come is  a  great  surprise  to  the  other  side.  Young 
Clarke  is  a  dead  shot.  An  injured  officer  of  the  Eng- 
lish army  may  cause  unexpected  embarrassment.  But 
you  have  time  enough  and  no  haste.  You  can  take  the 


THE  ENCOUNTER  163 

post  chaise  and  reach  the  ship  well  ahead  of  her 
sailing." 

"I  am  of  a  mind  not  to  go  with  you,"  Jack  said  to 
Solomon.  "When  I  go,  I  shall  take  Margaret  with 
me." 

So  it  happened  that  Jack  returned  to  London  while 
Solomon  waited  for  the  post  chaise  to  Deal. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  LADY  OF  THE  HIDDEN  FACE 

NEXT  morning  at  ten,  the  door  boy  at  his  lodgings 
informed  Jack  that  a  lady  was  waiting  to  see  him  in 
the  parlor.  The  lady  was  deeply  veiled.  She  did  not 
speak,  but  arose  as  he  entered  the  room  and  handed 
him  a  note.  She  was  tall  and  erect  with  a  fine  car- 
riage. Her  silence  was  impressive,  her  costume  ad- 
mirable. 

The  note  in  a  script  unfamiliar  to  the  young  man 
was  as  follows : 

"You  will  find  Margaret  waiting  in  a  coach  at  eleven 
to-day  at  the  corner  of  Harley  Street  and  Twickenham 
Road." 

The  veiled  lady  walked  to  the  door  and  turned  and 
stood  looking  at  him. 

Her  attitude  said  clearly :  "Well,  what  is  your  an- 
swer?" 

"I  will  be  there  at  eleven,"  said  the  young  man. 

'The  veiled  lady  nodded,  as  if  to  indicate  that  her 
mission  was  ended,  and  withdrew. 

Jack  was  thrilled  by  the  information  but  wondered 
why  it  was  so  wrapped  in  mystery.  Not  ten  minutes 
had  passed  after  the  departure  of  the  veiled  lady  when 
a  messenger  came  with  a  note  from  Sir  Benjamin 
Hare.  In  a  cordial  tone,  it  invited  Jack  to  breakfast 

164 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HIDDEN  FACE     165 

at  the  Almack  Club  at  twelve-thirty.  The  young  man 
returned  his  acceptance  by  the  same  messenger,  and  in 
his  best  morning  suit  went  to  meet  Margaret.  A  cab 
conveyed  him  to  the  corner  named.  There  was  the 
coach  with  shades  drawn  low,  waiting.  A  footman 
stood  near  it.  The  door  was  opened  and  he  saw  Mar- 
garet looking  out  at  him  and  shaking  her  hand. 

"You  see  what  a  sly  thing  I  am!"  she  said  when, 
the  greetings  over,  he  sat  by  her  side  and  the  coach 
was  moving.  "A  London  girl  knows  how  to  get  her 
way.  She  is  terribly  wise,  Jack." 

"But,  tell  me,  who  was  the  veiled  lady?" 

"A  go-between.  She  makes  her  living  that  way. 
She  is  wise,  discreet  and  reliable.  There  is  employ- 
ment for  many  such  in  this  wicked  city.  I  feel  dis- 
graced, Jack.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  that  I  am  ac- 
customed to  dark  and  secret  ways.  This  has  worried 
and  distressed  me,  but  I  had  to  see  you." 

"And  I  was  longing  for  a  look  at  you,"  he  said. 

"I  was  sure  you  would  not  know  how  to  pull  these 
ropes  of  intrigue.  I  have  heard  all  about  them.  I 
couldn't  help  that,  you  know,  and  be  a  young  lady  who 
is  quite  alive." 

"Our  time  is  short  and  I  have  much  to  say,"  said 
Jack.  "I  am  to  breakfast  with  your  father  at  the 
Almack  Club  at  twelve-thirty." 

She  clapped  her  hands  and  said,  with  a  laughing 
face,  "I  knew  he  would  ask  you !" 

"Margaret,  I  want  to  take  you  to  America  with  the 


1 66    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

approval  of  your  father,  if  possible,  and  without  it,  if 
necessary." 

"I  think  you  will  get  his  approval,"  said  the  girl 
with  enthusiasm.  "He  has  heard  all  about  the  duel. 
He  says  every  one  he  met,  of  the  court  party,  last  eve- 
ning, was  speaking  of  it.  They  agree  that  the  old 
General  needed  that  lesson.  Jack,  how  proud  I  am 
of  you!" 

She  pressed  his  hand  in  both  of  hers. 

"I  couldn't  help  knowing  how  to  shoot,"  he  an- 
swered. "And  I  would  not  be  worthy  to  touch  this 
fair  hand  of  yours  if  I  had  failed  to  resent  an  insult." 

"Although  he  is  a  friend  of  the  General,  my  father 
was  pleased,"  she  went  on.  "He  calls  you  a  good  sport. 
1 A  young  man  of  high  spirit  who  is  not  to  be  played 
with,'  that  is  what  he  said.  Now,  Jack,  if  you  do  not 
stick  too  hard  on  principles — if  you  can  yield  only  a 
little,  I  am  sure  he  will  let  us  be  married." 

"I  am  eager  to  hear  what  he  may  say  now,"  said 
Jack.  "Whatever  it  may  be,  let  us  stick  together  and  go 
to  America  and  be  happy.  It  would  be  a  dark  world 
without  you.  May  I  see  you  to-morrow?" 

"At  the  same  hour  and  place,"  she  answered. 

They  talked  of  the  home  they  would  have  in  Phila- 
delphia and  planned  its  garden,  Jack  having  told  of  the 
site  he  had  bought  with  great  trees  and  a  river  view. 
They  spent  an  hour  which  lent  its  abundant  happiness 
to  many  a  long  year  and  when  they  parted,  soon  after 
twelve  o'clock,  Jack  hurried  away  to  keep  his  appoint- 
ment 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HIDDEN  FACE     167 

2 

Sir  Benjamin  received  the  young  man  with  a  warm 
greeting  and  friendly  words.  Their  breakfast  was 
served  in  a  small  room  where  they  were  alone  together, 
and  when  they  were  seated  the  Baronet  observed : 

"I  have  heard  of  the  duel.  It  has  set  some  of  the 
best  tongues  in  England  wagging  in  praise  of  'the 
Yankee  boy.'  One  would  scarcely  have  expected  that/' 

"No,  I  was  prepared  to  run  for  my  life — not  that  I 
planned  to  do  any  great  damage,"  said  Jack. 

"You  can  shoot  straight — that  is  evident.  They  call 
your  delivery  of  that  bullet  swift,  accurate  and  merci- 
ful. Your  behavior  has  pleased  some  very  eminent 
people.  The  blustering  talk  of  the  General  excites  no 
sympathy  here.  In  London,  strangers  are  not  likely 
to  be  treated  as  you  were." 

"If  I  did  not  believe  that  I  should  be  leaving  it," 
said  Jack.  "I  should  not  like  to  take  up  dueling  for 
an  amusement,  as  some  men  have  done  in  France." 

"You  are  a  well  built  man  inside  and  out," 
Sir  Benjamin  answered.  "You  might  have  a  great 
future  in  England.  I  speak  advisedly." 

Their  talk  had  taken  a  turn  quite  unexpected.  It 
flattered  the  young  man.  He  blushed  and  answered : 

"Sir  Benjamin,  I  have  no  great  faith  in  my  talents." 

"On  terms  which  I  would  call  easy,  you  could  have 
fame,  honor  and  riches,  I  would  say." 

"At  present  I  want  only  your  daughter.  As  to  the 
rest,  I  shall  make  myself  content  with  what  may  nat- 
urally come  to  me." 


168     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"And  let  me  name  the  terms  on  which  I  should  be 
glad  to  welcome  you  to  my  family." 

"What  are  the  terms?" 

"Loyalty  to  your  King  and  a  will  to  understand  and 
assist  his  plans." 

"I  could  not  follow  him  unless  he  will  change  his 
plans." 

The  Baronet  put  down  his  fork  and  looked  up  at 
the  young  man.  "Do  you  really  mean  what  you  say?" 
he  demanded.  "Is  it  so  difficult  for  you  to  do  your 
ihty  as  a  British  subject?" 

"Sir  Benjamin,  always  I  have  been  taught  that  it  is 
the  duty  of  a  British  subject  to  resist  oppression.  The 
plans  of  the  King  are  oppressive.  I  can  not  fall  in  with 
them.  I  love  Margaret  as  I  love  my  life,  but  I  must 
keep  myself  worthy  of  her.  If  I  could  think  so  well 
of  my  conduct,  it  is  because  I  have  principles  that  are 
inviolable." 

"At  least  I  hope  you  would  promise  me  not  to  take 
up  arms  against  the  King." 

"Please  don't  ask  me  to  do  that.  It  would  grieve 
me  to  fight  against  England.  I  hope  it  may  never  be, 
but  I  would  rather  fight  than  submit  to  tyranny." 

The  Baronet  made  no  reply  to  this  declaration  so 
firmly  made.  A  new  look  came  into  his  face.  Indig- 
nation and  resentment  were  there,  but  he  did  not  for- 
get the  duty  of  a  host.  He  began  to  speak  of  other 
things.  The  breakfast  went  on  to  its  end  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  cool  politeness. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HIDDEN  FACE     169 

When  they  were  out  upon  the  street  together,  Sir 
Benjamin  turned  to  him  and  said : 

"Now  that  we  are  on  neutral  ground,  I  want  to  say 
that  you  Americans  are  a  stiff-necked  lot  of  people- 
You  are  not  like  any  other  breed  of  men.  I  am  done 
with  you.  My  way  can  not  be  yours.  Let  us  part  as 
friends  and  gentlemen  ought  to  part.  I  say  good-by 
with  a  sense  of  regret  I  shall  never  forget  your  serv- 
ice to  my  wife  and  daughter." 

"Think  not  of  that,"  said  the  young  man.  "What  I 
did  for  them  I  would  do  for  any  one  who  needed  my 
help." 

"I  have  to  ask  you  to  give  up  all  hope  of  marrying 
my  daughter." 

"That  I  can  not  do,"  said  Jack.  "Over  that  hope  I 
have  no  control.  I  might  as  well  promise  not  to 
breathe." 

"But  I  must  ask  you  to  give  me  your  word  as  a  gen- 
tleman that  you  will  hold  no  further  communication 
with  her." 

"Sir  Benjamin,  I  shall  be  frank  with  you.  It  is  an 
unfair  request.  I  can  not  agree  to  it." 

"What  do  you  say?"  the  Englishman  asked  in  a 
tone  of  astonishment,  and  his  query  was  emphasized 
with  a  firm  tap  of  his  cane  on  the  pavement. 

"I  hate  to  displease  you,  sir,  but  if  I  made  such  a 
promise,  I  would  be  sure  to  break  it." 

"Then,  sir,  I  shall  see  to  it  that  you  have  no  oppor- 
tunity to  oppose  my  will." 


1 70     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

In  spite  of  his  fine  restraint,  the  eyes  of  the  Bar- 
onet glowed  with  anger,  as  he  quickly  turned  from 
the  young  man  and  hurried  away. 

"Here  is  more  tyranny,"  the  American  thought  as 
he  went  in  the  opposite  direction.  "But  I  do  not  be- 
lieve he  can  keep  us  apart." 

"I  walked  on  and  on,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend.  "Never 
had  I  felt  such  a  sense  of  loss  and  loneliness  and  de- 
jection. I  almost  resented  the  inflexible  tyranny  of 
my  own  spirit  which  had  turned  him  against  me.  I 
accused  myself  of  a  kind  of  selfishness  in  the  matter. 
Had  it  been  right  in  me  to  take  a  course  which  en- 
dangered the  happiness  of  another,  to  say  nothing  of 
my  own?  But  I  couldn't  have  done  otherwise,  not  if 
I  had  known  that  a  mountain  were  to  fall  upon  me. 
I  am  like  all  of  those  who  follow  the  star  in  the  west. 
We  do  as  we  must.  I  had  not  seen  Franklin  since 
my  duel,  and  largely  because  I  had  been  ashamed  to 
face  him.  Now  I  felt  the  need  of  his  wisdom  and  so 
I  turned  my  steps  toward  his  door." 

3 

"I  am  like  the  land  of  Goshen  amid  the  plagues  of 
Egypt,"  said  Franklin,  when  the  young  man  was  ad- 
mitted to  his  office.  "My  gout  is  gone  and  I  am  in 
good  spirits  in  spite  of  your  adventure." 

"And  I  suppose  you  will  scold  me  for  the  adven- 
ture." 

"You  will   scold  yourself   when  the  consequences 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HIDDEN  FACE     171 

have  arrived.    They  will  be  sure  to  give  you  a  spank- 
ing.    The  deed  is  done,  and  well  done.     On  the  whole 
I  think  it  has  been  good  for  the  cause,  but  bad  for 
you." 
"Why?" 

"You  may  have  to  run  out  of  England  to  save  your 
neck  and  the  face  of  the  King.    He  was  there,  I  be- 
lieve?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"The  injured  lad  is  in  a  bad  way.  The  wound 
caught  an  infection.  Intense  fever  and  swelling  have 
set  in.  I  helped  Sir  John  Pringle  to  amputate  the  arm 
this  afternoon,  but  even  that  may  not  save  the  patient. 
Here  is  a  storm  to  warn  the  wandering  linnet  to  his 
shade.  A  ship  goes  to-morrow  evening.'  Get  ready  to 
take  it.  In  that  case  your  marriage  will  have  to  be 
delayed.  Rash  men  are  often  compelled  to  live  on 
hope  and  die  fasting." 

"With  Sir  Benjamin,  the  duel  has  been  a  help  in- 
stead of  a  hindrance,"  said  the  young  man.  "My  stub- 
born soul  has  been  the  great  obstacle." 

Then  he  told  of  his  interview  with  Sir  Benjamin 
Hare. 

Franklin  put  his  hand  on  Jack's  shoulder  and  said 
with  a  smile: 

'My  son,  I  love  you.     I  could  wish  you  to  be  no 
lifferent.    Cheer  up.    Time  will  lay  the  dust,  and  per- 
laps  sooner  than  you  think." 
"I  hope  to  see  Margaret  to-morrow  morning." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Ah,  then,  'what  Grecian  arts  of  soft  persuasion !'  * 
Franklin  quoted.     "I  hope  that  she,  too,  will  follow 
the  great  star  in  the  west !" 

"I  hope  so,  but  I  greatly  fear  that  our  meeting  will' 
be  prevented." 

"Did  you  get  my  note  of  to-day  at  your  lodgings?" 
Franklin  asked. 

"No,"  said  Jack.    "I  left  there  soon  after  ten." 

"Lord  Chatham  has  kindly  offered  to  secure  admis- 
sion for  you  and  me  to  the  House  of  Lords.  He  is 
making  an  important  motion.  Come,  let  us  go  and 
see  the  hereditary  legislators." 

Lord  Stanhope  met  them  at  the  door  of  the  House 
of  Lords.  There  was  a  great  bustle  among  the  offi- 
cers when  His  Lordship  announced  their  names  and 
his  desire  to  have  them  admitted.  The  officers  hurried 
in  after  members  and  there  was  some  delay,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  Americans  were  turned  from  the 
division  reserved  for  eldest  sons  and  brothers  of  peers. 
Not  less  than  ten  minutes  were  consumed  in  the  process 
of  seating  Franklin  and  his  friend. 

Soon  Lord  Chatham  arose  and  moved  that  His 
Majesty's  forces  be  withdrawn  from  Boston.  With  a 
singular  charm  of  personality  and  address,  the  great 
dissenter  made  his  speech.  Jack  wrote  in  his  diary 
that  evening:  "The  most  captivating  figure  that  ever 
I  saw  is  a  well-bred  Englishman  trained  in  the  art  of 
public  speaking."  The  words  were  no  doubt  inspired 
by  the  impressive  speech  of  Chatham,  which  is  now  an 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HIDDEN  FACE     173 

imperishable  part  of  the  history  of  England.  These 
words  from  it  the  young  man  remembered : 

"If  the  ministers  thus  persevere  in  misleading  and 
misadvising  the  King,  I  will  not  say  that  they  can 
alienate  the  affection  of  his  subjects  from  his  crown, 
but  I  will  affirm  that  they  will  make  his  crown  not 
worth  his  wearing;  I  will  not  say  that  the  King  is  be- 
trayed, but  I  will  say  that  the  kingdom  is  undone." 

Lord  Sandwich  in  a  petulant  speech  declared  that 
the  motion  ought  not  to  be  received.  He  could  never 
believe  it  the  production  of  a  British  peer.  Turning 
toward  Franklin,  he  flung  out : 

"I  fancy  that  I  have  in  my  eye  the  person  who  drew 
it  up — one  of  the  bitterest  and  most  mischievous  ene- 
mies this  country  has  ever  known." 

"Franklin  sat  immovable  and  without  the  slightest 
change  in  his  countenance,"  Jack  wrote  in  a  letter  to 
The  Pennsylvania  Gazette. 

Chatham  declared  that  the  motion  was  his  own,  and 
added : 

"If  I  were  the  first  minister  of  this  country,  charged 
with  the  settling  of  its  momentous  business,  I  should 
not  be  ashamed  to  call  to  my  assistance  a  man  so  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  all  American  affairs,  as  the  gen- 
tleman so  injuriously  referred  to — one  whom  all  Eu- 
rope holds  in  high  estimation  for  his  knowledge  and 
wisdom,  which  are  an  honor,  not  only  to  England,  but 
to  human  nature." 

"Franklin  told  me  that  this  was  harder  for  him  to 


174     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

bear  than  the  abuse,  but  he  kept  his  countenance  as 
blank  as  a  sheet  of  white  paper,"  Jack  wrote.  "There 
was  much  vehement  declamation  against  the  measure 
and  it  was  rejected. 

"When  we  had  left  the  chamber,  Franklin  said 
to  me: 

"  'That  motion  was  made  by  the  first  statesman  of 
the  age,  who  took  the  helm  of  state  when  the  latter 
was  in  the  depths  of  despondency  and  led  it  to  glorious 
victory  through  a  war  with  two  of  the  mightiest  king- 
doms in  Europe.  Only  a  few  of  those  men  had  the 
slightest  understanding  of  its  merits.  Yet  they  would 
not  even  consider  it  in  a  second  reading.  They  are  sat- 
isfied with  their  ignorance.  They  have  nothing  to 
learn.  Hereditary  legislators !  There  would  be  more 
propriety  in  hereditary  professors  of  mathematics! 
Heredity  is  a  great  success  with  only  one  kind  of 
creature/ 

"' What  creature?'  I  asked. 

"  The  ass/  he  answered,  with  as  serious  a  counte- 
nance as  I  have  seen  him  wear. 

"No  further  word  was  spoken  as  we  rode  back  to 
his  home/'  the  young  man  wrote.  "We  knew  the  die 
had  been  cast.  We  had  seen  it  fall  carelessly  out  of  the 
hand  of  Ignorance,  obeying  intellects  swelled  with 
hereditary  passion  and  conceit.  I  now  had  something 
to  say  to  my  countrymen," 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DEPARTURE 

THAT  evening  Jack  received  a  brief  note  from  Pres- 
ton. It  said : 

"I  learn  that  young  Clarke  is  very  ill.  I  think  you 
would  better  get  out  of  England  for  fear  of  what  may 
come.  A  trial  would  be  apt  to  cause  embarrassment 
in  high  places.  Can  I  give  you  assistance?" 

Jack  returned  this  note  by  the  same  messenger : 

"Thanks,  good  friend,  I  shall  go  as  soon  as  my  busi- 
ness is  finished,  which  I  hope  may  be  to-morrow." 

Just  before  the  young  man  went  to  bed  a  brief  note 
arrived  from  Margaret.  It  read: 

"DEAREST  JACK.  My  father  has  learned  of  our 
meeting  yesterday  and  of  how  it  came  about.  He  is 
angry.  He  forbids  another  meeting.  I  shall  not 
submit  to  his  tyranny.  We  must  assert  our  rights 
like  good  Americans.  I  have  a  plan.  You  will  learn 
of  it  when  we  meet  to-morrow  at  eleven.  Do  not  send 
an  answer.  Lovingly,  MARGARET." 

He  slept  little,  and  in  the  morning  awaited  with 
keen  impatience  the  hour  of  his  appointment. 

On  his  way  to  the  place  he  heard  a  newsboy  shout- 
ing the  words  "duel"  and  "Yankee,"  followed  by  the 
suggestive  statement :  "Bloody  murder  in  high  life;" 

175 


176     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Evidently  Lionel  Clarke  had  died  of  his  wound.  He 
saw  people  standing  in  groups  and  reading  the  paper. 
He  began  to  share  the  nervousness  of  Preston  and 
the  wise,  far-seeing  Franklin.  He  jumped  into 
a  cab  and  was  at  the  corner  some  minutes  ahead  of 
time.  Precisely  at  eleven  he  saw  the  coach  draw 
near.  He  hurried  to  its  side.  The  footman  dis- 
mounted and  opened  the  door.  Inside  he  saw,  not 
Margaret,  but  the  lady  of  the  hidden  face. 

"You  are  to  get  in,  sir,  and  make  a  little  journey 
with  the  madame,"  said  the  footman. 

Jack  got  into  the  coach.  Its  door  closed,  the  horses 
started  with  a  jump  and  he  was  on  his  way  whither  he 
knew  not.  Nor  did  he  know  the  reason  for  the  rapid 
pace  at  which  the  horses  had  begun  to  trave1. 

"If  you  do  not  mind,  sir,  we  will  not  lift  the  shades," 
said  the  veiled  lady,  as  the  coach  started.  "We  shall 
see  Margaret  soon,  I  hope." 

She  had  a  colorless,  cold  voice  and  what  was  then 
known  in  London  as  the  "patrician  manner."  Her 
tone  and  silence  seemed  to  say:  "Please  remember 
this  is  all  a  matter  of  business  and  not  a  highly  agree- 
able business  to  me." 

"Where  is  Margaret?"  he  asked. 

"A  long  way  from  here.  We  shall  meet  her  at  The 
Ship  and  Anchor  in  Gravesend.  She  will  be  making 
the  journey  by  another  road." 

She  had  answered  in  a  voice  as  cold  as  the  day  and 
in  the  manner  of  one  who  had  said  quite  enough. 

"Where  is  Gravesend  ?" 


THE  DEPARTURE  177 

"On  the  Thames  near  the  sea,"  she  answered  briskly, 
as  if  in  pity  of  his  ignorance. 

He  saw  the  plan  now — an  admirable  plan.  They 
were  to  meet  near  the  port  of  sailing  and  be  married 
and  go  aboard  the  ship  and  away.  It  was  the  plan  of 
Margaret  and  much  better  than  any  he  could  have 
made,  for  he  knew  little  of  London  and  its  ports. 

"Should  I  not  take  my  baggage  with  me?" 

"There  is  not  time  for  that,"  the  veiled  lady  an- 
swered. "We  must  make  haste.  I  have  some  clothes 
for  you  in  a  bag." 

She  pointed  to  a  leathern  case  under  the  front  seat. 

He  sat  thinking  of  the  cleverness  of  Margaret  as 
they  left  the  edge  of  the  city  and  hurried  away  on  the 
east  turnpike.  A  mist  was  coming  up  from  the  sea. 
The  air  ahead  had  the  color  of  a  wool  stack.  They 
stopped  at  an  inn  to  feed  and  water  the  horses  and 
went  on  in  a  dense  fog,  which  covered  the  hedge  rows 
on  either  side  and  lay  thick  on  the  earth  so  that  the 
horses  seemed  to  be  wading  in  it.  Their  pace  slowed 
to  a  walk.  From  that  time  on,  the  road  was  like  a  long 
ford  over  which  they  proceeded  with  caution,  the 
driver  now  and  then  winding  a  horn. 

Each  sat  quietly  in  a  corner  of  the  seat  with  a  wall 
of  cold  fog  between  them.  The  young  man  liked  it 
better  than  the  wall  of  mystery  through  which  he  had 
been  able  to  see  the  silent,  veiled  form  beside  him. 

"Do  you  have  much  weather  like  this?"  he  ventured 
to  inquire  by  and  by. 

This  answer  came  out  of  the  bank  of  fog:    "Yes," 


1 78     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

as  if  she  would  have  him  understand  that  she  was  not 
being  paid  for  conversation. 

From  that  time  forward  they  rode  in  a  silence 
broken  only  by  the  creaking  of  the  coach  and  the  sound 
of  the  horses'  hoofs.  Darkness  had  fallen  when  they 
reached  the  little  city  of  Gravesend.  The  Ship  and 
Anchor  stood  by  the  water's  edge. 

"You  will  please  wait  here,"  said  the  stern  lady  in 
a  milder  voice  than  she  had  used  before,  as  the  coach 
drew  up  at  the  inn  door,  "I  shaH  see  if  she  has  come." 

His  strange  companion  entered  the  inn  and  returned 
presently,  saying :  "She  has  not  yet  arrived.  Delayed 
by  the  fog.  We  will  have  our  dinner,  if  you  please." 

Jack  had  not  broken  his  fast  since  nine  and  felt 
keenly  the  need  of  refreshment,  but  he  answered : 

"I  think  that  I  would  better  wait  for  Margaret." 

"No,  she  will  have  dined  at  Tillbury,"  said  the  mas- 
terful lady.  "It  will  save  time.  Please  come  and  have 
dinner,  sir." 

He  followed  her  into  the  inn.  Tne  landlady,  a 
stout,  obsequious  woman,  led  them  to  a  small  dining- 
room  above  stairs  lighted  by  many  candles  where  an 
open  fire  was  burning  cheerfully. 

A  handsomely  dressed  man  waited  by  them  for  or- 
ders and  retired  with  the  landlady  when  they  were 
given. 

From  this  point  the  scene  at  the  inn  is  described  in 
the  diary  of  the  American. 

"She  drew  off  her  hat  and  veil  and  a  young  woman 


THE  DEPARTURE  179 

about  twenty-eight  years  of  age  and  of  astonishing 
beauty  stood  before  me." 

c  'There,  now,  I  am  out  of  business/  she  remarked 
in  a  pleasant  voice  as  she  sat  down  at  the  table  which 
had  been  spread  before  the  fireplace.  'I  will  do  my 
best  to  be  a  companion  to  you  until  Margaret  arrives.' 

"She  looked  into  my  eyes  and  smiled.  Her  sheath 
of  ice  had  fallen  from  her. 

:  'You  will  please  forgive  my  impertinence,'  said 
she.  'I  earn  my  living  by  it.  In  a  world  of  sentiment 
and  passion  I  must  be  as  cold  and  bloodless  as  a  stone, 
but  in  fact,  I  am  very — very  human.' 

"The  waiter  came  with  a  tray  containing  soup, 
glasses  and  a  bottle  of  sherry.  We  sat  down  at  the 
table  and  our  waiter  rilled  two  glasses  with  the  sherry. 
1  'Thank  you,  but  self-denial  is  another  duty  of 
mine,'  she  remarked  when  I  offered  her  a  glass  of  the 
wine.  'I  live  in  a  tipsy  world  and  drink — water.  I  live 
in  a  merry  world  and  keep  a  stern  face.  It  is  a  vile 
world  and  yet  I  am  unpolluted.' 

"I  drank  my  glass  of  wine  and  had  begun  to  eat  my 
soup  when  a  strange  feeling  came  over  me.  My  plate 
seemed  to  be  sinking  through  the  table.  The  wall  and 
fireplace  were  receding  into  dim  distance.  I  knew 
then  that  I  had  tasted  the  cup  of  Circe.  My  hands  fell 
through  my  lap  and  suddenly  the  day  ended.  It  was 
like  sawing  off  a  board.  The  end  had  fallen.  There 
is  nothing  more  to  be  said  of  it  because  my  brain  had 
ceased  to  receive  and  record  impressions.  I  was  as 


180     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

totally  out  of  business  as  a  man  in  his  grave.  When 
I  came  to,  I  was  in  a  berth  on  the  ship  King  William 
bound  for  New  York.  As  soon  as  I  knew  anything,  I 
knew  that  I  had  been  tricked.  My  clothes  had  been 
removed  and  were  lying  on  a  chair  near  me.  My 
watch  and  money  were  undisturbed.  I  had  a  severe 
pain  in  my  head.  I  dressed  and  went  up  on  deck.  The 
Captain  was  there. 

"  'You  must  have  had  a  night  of  it  in  Gravesend/ 
he  said.  "You  were  like  a  dead  man  when  they 
brought  you  aboard." 

"  'Where  am  I  going  ?'  I  asked. 

"  To  New  York/  he  answered  with  a  laugh.  'You 
must  have  had  a  time !' 

"How  much  is  the  fare?" 

"  'Young  man,  that  need  not  concern  you,'  said  the 
Captain.  'Your  fare  has  been  paid  in  full.  I  saw  them 
put  a  letter  in  your  pocket.  Have  you  read  it?' ' 

Jack  found  the  letter  and  read : 

"DEAR  SIR — When  you  see  this  you  will  be  well  out 
of  danger  and,  it  is  hoped,  none  the  worse  for  your 
dissipation.  This  from  one  who  admires  your  skill 
and  courage  and  who  advises  you  to  keep  out  of  Eng- 
land for  at  least  a  year. 

"A  WELL  WISHER." 

He  looked  back  over  the  stern  of  the  ship.  The 
shore  had  fallen  out  of  sight.  The  sky  was  clear.  The 
sun  shining.  The  wind  was  blowing  from  the  east. 

He  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  toward  the  land 
he  had  left. 


THE   DEPARTURE  181 

"Oh,  ye  wings  of  the  wind !  take  my  love  to  her  and 
give  her  news  of  me  and  bid  her  to  be  steadfast  in  her 
iaith  and  hope,"  he  whispered. 

He  leaned  against  the  bulwark  and  tried  to  think. 

"Sir  Benjamin  has  seen  to  it,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"I  shall  have  no  opportunity  to  meet  her  again." 

He  reviewed  the  events  of  the  day  and  their  under- 
current of  intrigue.  The  King  himself  might  have 
been  concerned  in  that  and  Preston  also.  It  had  been 
on  the  whole  a  rather  decent  performance,  he  mused, 
and  perhaps  it  had  kept  him  out  of  worse  trouble  than 
he  was  now  in.  But  what  had  happened  to  Margaret  ? 
He  reread  her  note. 

"My  father  has  learned  of  our  meeting  and  of  how 
it  came  about,"  he  quoted. 

"More  bribery,"  he  thought.  "The  intrigante  natu- 
rally sold  her  services  to  the  highest  bidder." 

He  recalled  the  violent  haste  with  which  the  coach 
had  rolled  away  from  the  place  of  meeting.  Had  that 
been  due  to  a  fear  that  Margaret  would  defeat  their 
plans  ? 

All  these  speculations  and  regrets  were  soon  put 
away.  But  for  a  long  time  one  cause  of  worry  was 
barking  at  his  heels.  It  slept  beside  him  and  often 
touched  and  awoke  him  at  night.  He  had  been  respon- 
sible for  the  death  of  a  human  being.  What  an  un- 
lucky hour  he  had  had  at  Sir  John  Pringle's!  Yet 
he  found  a  degree  of  comfort  in  the  hope  that  those 
proud  men  might  now  have  a  better  thought  of  the 
Yankees, 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  FRIEND  AND  THE  GIRL  HE  LEFT  BEHIND  HIM 

AFTER  Jack  had  been  whirled  out  of  London,  Frank- 
lin called  at  his  lodgings  and  learned  that  he  had  not 
been  seen  for  a  day.  The  wise  philosopher  entertained 
no  doubt  that  the  young  man  had  taken  ship  agreeably 
with  the  advice  given  him.  A  report  had  been  running 
through  the  clubs  of  London  that  Lionel  Clarke  had 
succumbed.  In  fact  he  had  had  a  bad  turn  but  had  ral- 
lied. Jack  must  have  heard  the  false  report  and  taken 
ship  suddenly. 

Doctor  Franklin  went  that  day  to  the  meeting  of 
the  Privy  Council,  whither  he  had  been  sternly  sum- 
moned for  examination  in  the  matter  of  the  letters  of 
Hutchinson  et  al.  For  an  hour  he  had  stood  unmoved 
while  Alexander  Wedderburn,  the  wittiest  barrister 
in  the  kingdom,  poured  upon  him  a  torrent  of  abuse. 
Even  the  judges,  against  all  traditions  of  decorum  in 
the  high  courts  of  Britain,  laughed  at  the  cleverness 
of  the  assault.  That  was  the  speech  of  which  Charles 
James  Fox  declared  that  it  was  the  most  expensive  bit 
of  oratory  which  had  been  heard  in  England  since  it 
had  cost  the  kingdom  its  colonies. 

It  was  alleged  that  in  some  manner  Franklin  had 
stolen  the  letters  and  violated  their  sacred  privacy. 
It  is  known  now  that  an  English  nobleman  had  put 
them  in  his  hands  to  read  and  that  he  was  in  no  way 

182 


THE  GIRL  HE  LEFT  BEHIND  HIM     18} 

responsible  for  their  publication.  The  truth,  if  i 
could  have  been  told,  would  have  bent  the  proud  headt 
of  Wedderburn  and  the  judges  to  whom  he  appealed, 
in  confusion.  But  Franklin  held  his  peace,  as  a  man 
of  honor  was  bound  to  do.  He  stood  erect  and  digni- 
fied with  a  face  like  one  carved  in  wood. 

The  counsel  for  the  colonies  made  a  weak  defense. 
The  triumph  was  complete.  The  venerable  man  was 
convicted  of  conduct  inconsistent  with  the  character 
of  a  gentleman  and  deprived  of  his  office  as  Postmas- 
ter General  of  the  Colonies. 

But  he  had  two  friends  in  court.  They  were  the 
Lady  Hare  and  her  daughter.  They  followed  him  out 
of  the  chamber.  In  the  great  hallway,  Margaret,  her 
eyes  wet  with  tears,  embraced  and  kissed  the  phi- 
losopher. 

"I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  your  friend  and  that 
I  love  America,"  she  said. 

"My  daughter,  it  has  been  a  hard  hour,  but  I  am 
sixty-eight  years  old  and  have  learned  many  things," 
he  answered.  "Time  is  the  only  avenger  I  need.  It 
will  lay  the  dust." 

The  girl  embraced  and  kissed  him  again  and  said  in 
a  voice  shaking  with  emotion : 

"I  wish  my  father  and  all  Englishmen  to  know  that 
I  am  your  friend  and  that  I  have  a  love  that  can  not  be 
turned  aside  or  destroyed  and  that  I  will  have  my 
right  as  a  human  being." 

"Come  let  us  go  and  talk  together — we  three,"  he 
proposed. 


184    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  took  a  cab  and  drove  away. 

"You  will  think  all  this  a  singular  proceeding," 
Lady  Hare  remarked.  "I  must  tell  you  that  rebellion 
has  started  in  our  home.  Its  peace  is  quite  destroyed. 
Margaret  has  declared  her  right  to  the  use  of  her  own 
mind." 

"Well,  if  she  is  to  use  any  mind  it  will  have  to  be 
that  one,"  Franklin  answered.  "I  do  not  see  why 
women  should  not  be  entitled  to  use  their  minds  as 
well  as  their  hands  and  feet." 

"I  was  kept  at  home  yesterday  by  force,"  said  Mar- 
garet. "Every  door  locked  and  guarded!  It  was 
brutal  tyranny." 

"The  poor  child  has  my  sympathy  but  what  can  I 
do?"  Lady  Hare  inquired. 

"Being  an  American,  you  can  expect  but  one  answer 
from  me,"  said  the  philosopher.  "To  us  tyranny  in 
home  or  state  is  intolerable.  They  tried  it  on  me  when 
I  was  a  boy  and  I  ran  away." 

"That  is  what  I  shall  do  if  necessary,"  said  Mar- 
garet. 

"Oh,  my  child!  How  would  you  live?"  her  mother 
asked. 

"I  will  answer  that  question  for  her,  if  you  will  let 
me,"  said  Franklin.  "If  she  needs  it,  she  shall  have  an 
allowance  out  of  my  purse." 

"Thank  you,  but  that  would  raise  a  scandal,"  said 
the  woman. 

"Oh,  Your  Ladyship,  I  am  old  enough  to  be  her 
grandfather" 


THE  GIRL  HE  LEFT  BEHIND  HIM     185 

"I  wish  to  go  with  Jack,  if  you  know  where  he  is," 
Margaret  declared,  looking  up  into  the  face  of  the 
philosopher. 

"I  think  he  is  pushing  toward  America,"  Franklin 
answered.  "Being  alarmed  at  the  condition  of  his  ad- 
versary, I  advised  him  to  slip  away.  A  ship  went 
yesterday.  Probably  he's  on  it  He  had  no  chance  to 
see  me  or  to  pick  up  his  baggage." 

"I  shall  follow  him  soon,"  the  girl  declared. 

"If  you  will  only  contain  yourself,  you  will  get  along 
with  your  father  very  well,"  said  Lady  Hare.  "I  know 
him  better  than  you.  He  has  promised  to  take  you  to 
America  in  December.  You  must  wait  and  be  patient. 
After  all,  your  father  has  a  large  claim  upon  you." 

"I  think  you  will  do  well  to  wait,  my  child,"  said  the 
philosopher.  "Jack  will  keep  and  you  are  both  young. 
Fathers  are  like  other  children.  They  make  mistakes 
- — they  even  do  wrong  now  and  then.  They  have  to 
be  forgiven  and  allowed  a  chance  to  repent  and  im- 
prove their  conduct.  Your  father  is  a  good  man.  Try 
to  win  him  to  your  cause." 

"And  die  a  maiden,"  said  the  girl  with  a  sigh. 

"Impossible!"  Franklin  exclaimed. 

"I  shall  marry  Jack  or  never  marry.  I  would  rather 
be  his  wife  than  the  Queen  of  England." 

"This  is  surely  the  age  of  romance,"  said  the  smil- 
ing philosopher  as  the  ladies  alighted  at  their  door.  "I 
wish  I  were  young  again." 


BOOK    TWO 
CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  FERMENT 

ON  his  voyage  to  New  York,  Jack  wrote  long  let- 
ters to  Margaret  and  to  Doctor  Franklin,  which  were 
deposited  in  the  Post-Office  on  his  arrival,  the  tenth  of 
March.  He  observed  a  great  change  in  the  spirit  of 
the  people.  They  were  no  longer  content  with  words. 
The  ferment  was  showing  itself  in  acts  of  open  and 
violent  disorder.  The  statue  of  George  III,  near  the 
Battery,  was  treated  to  a  volley  of  decayed  eggs,  in 
the  evening  of  his  arrival.  This  hot  blood  was  due  to 
the  effort  to  present  free  speech  in  the  colonies  and 
the  proposal  to  send  political  prisoners  to  England  for 
trial. 

Jack  took  the  first  boat  to  Albany  and  found  Solo- 
mon working  on  the  Irons  farm.  In  his  diary  he  tells 
of  the  delightful  days  of  rest  he  enjoyed  with  his  fam- 
ily. Solomon  had  told  them  of  the  great  adventure 
but  Jack  would  have  little  to  say  of  it,  having  no  pride 
in  that  achievement. 

Soon  the  scout  left  on  a  mission  for  the  Committee 
of  Safety  to  distant  settlements  in,  the  great  north 
bush. 

"I'll  be  spendin'  the  hull  moon  in  the  wilderness," 
1 86 


THE  FERMENT  187 

he  said  to  Jack.     "Coin'  to  Virginny  when  I  get  back, 
an'  I'll  look  fer  ye  on  the  way  down." 

Jack  set  out  for  Philadelphia  the  day  after  Solomon 
left.  He  stopped  at  Kinderhook  on  his  way  do.wn  the 
river  and  addressed  its  people  on  conditions  in  Eng- 
land. A  young  Tory  interrupted  his  remarks.  At  the 
barbecue,  which  followed,  this  young  man  was  seized 
and  punished  by  a  number  of  stalwart  girls  who  re- 
moved his  collar  and  jacket  by  force  and  covered  his 
head  and  neck  with  molasses  and  the  fuzz  of  cat  tails. 
Jack  interceded  for  the  Tory  and  stopped  the  pro 
ceeding. 

"My  friends,  we  must  control  our  anger,"  he  said. 
"Let  us  not  try  to  subdue  tyranny  by  using  it  our- 
selves." 

Everywhere  he  found  the  people  in  such  a  temper 
that  Tories  had  to  hold  their  peace  or  suffer  punish- 
ment. At  the  office  he  learned  that  his  most  important 
letters  had  failed  to  pass  the  hidden  censorship  of  mail 
in  England.  He  began,  at  once,  to  write  a  series  of 
articles  which  hastened  the  crisis.  The  first  of  them 
was  a  talk  with  Franklin,  which  told  how  his  mail  had 
been  tampered  with;  that  no  letter  had  come  to  his 
hand  through  the  Post-Office  which  had  not  been 
opened  with  apparent  indifference  as  to  the  evidence  of 
its  violation.  The  Doctor's  words  regarding  free 
speech  in  America  and  the  proposal  to  try  the  bolder 
critics  for  treason  were  read  and  discussed  in  every 


1 88     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

household  from  the  sea  to  the  mountains  and  from 
Maine  to  Florida. 

"Grievances  can  not  be  redressed  unless  they  are 
known  and  they  can  not  be  known  save  through  com- 
plaints and  petitions,"  the  philosopher  had  said.  "If 
these  are  taken  as  affronts  and  the  messengers  pun- 
ished, the  vent  of  grief  is  stopped  up — a  dangerous 
thing  in  any  state.  It  is  sure  to  produce  an  explosion. 

"An  evil  magistrate  with  the  power  to  punish  for 
words  would  be  armed  with  a  terrible  weapon. 

"Augustus  Caesar,  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  pre- 
serving Romans  from  defamation,  made  libel  subject 
to  the  penalties  of  treason.  Thenceforward  every 
man's  life  hung  by  a  thread  easily  severed  by  some 
lying  informer. 

"Soon  it  was  resolved  by  all  good  judges  of  law  that 
whoever  should  insinuate  the  least  doubt  of  Nero's 
preeminence  in  the  noble  art  of  fiddling  should  be 
deemed  a  traitor.  Grief  became  treason  and  one  lady 
was  put  to  death  for  bewailing  the  fate  of  her  mur- 
dered son.  In  time,  silence  became  treason,  and  even 
a  look  was  considered  an  overt  act." 

These  words  of  the  wise  philosopher  strengthened 
the  spirit  of  the  land  for  its  great  ordeal. 

Jack  described  the  prejudice  of  the  Lords  who,  con- 
tent with  their  ignorance,  spurned  every  effort  to  in- 
form them  of  the  conditions  in  America. 

"And  this  little  tail  is  wagging  the  great  dog  of 


THE  FERMENT  189 

England,  most  of  whose  people  believe  in  the  justice  of 
our  complaints,"  he  wrote. 

The  young  man's  work  had  set  the  bells  ringing  and 
they  were  the  bells  of  revolt.  The  arrival  of  General 
Gage  at  Boston  in  May,  to  be  civil  governor  and  com- 
mander-in-chief  for  the  continent,  and  the  blockade 
of  the  port  twenty  days  later,  compelling  its  popula- 
tion who  had  been  fed  by  the  sea  to  starve  or  subsist 
on  the  bounty  of  others,  drove  the  most  conservative 
'citizens  into  the  open.  Parties  went  out  Tory  hunting. 
Every  suspected  man  was  compelled  to  declare  him- 
self and  if  incorrigible,  was  sent  away.  Town  meet- 
ings were  held  even  under  the  eyes  of  the  King's 
soldiers  and  no  tribunal  was  allowed  to  sit  in  any 
court-house.  At  Salem,  a  meeting  was  held  behind 
locked  doors  with  the  Governor  and  his  Secretary 
shouting  a  proclamation  through  its  keyhole,  declaring 
it  to  be  dissolved.  The  meeting  proceeded  to  its  end, 
and  when  the  citizens  filed  out,  they  had  invited  the 
thirteen  colonies  to  a  General  Congress  in  Philadelphia. 

It  was  Solomon  Binkus  who  conveyed  the  invita- 
tion to  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia.  He  had  gone  on  a 
second  mission  to  Springfield  and  Boston  and  had  been 
in  the  meeting  at  Salem  with  General  Ward.  Another 
man  carried  that  historic  call  to  the  colonies  farther 
south.  In  five  weeks,  delegates  were  chosen,  and  early 
in  August,  they  were  traveling  on  many  different  roads 
toward  the  Quaker  City.  Crowds  gathered  in  every 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 


town  and  village  they  passed.     Solomon,  who 
with  the  Virginia  delegation,  told  Jack  that  he  hadn'i 
heard  so  much  noise  since  the  Injun  war. 

"They  was  poundin'  the  bells,  an  shootin'  cannons 
everywhere,"  he  declared.  "Men,  women  and  chil- 
dern  crowded  'round  us  an'  split  their  lungs  yellin*. 
They's  a  streak  o'  sore  throats  all  the  way  from  Aley  - 
andry  to  here." 

Solomon  and  his  young  friend  met  John  Adams  01 
the  street.  The  distinguished  Massachusetts  lawyer 
said  to  Jack  when  the  greetings  were  over  : 

"Young  man,  your  pen  has  been  not  writing,  buv 
making  history." 

"Does  it  mean  war?"  Jack  queried. 

Mr.  Adams  wiped  his  brow  with  his  handkerchief 
and  said:  "People  in  our  circumstances  have  seldom 
grown  old  or  died  in  their  beds." 

"We  ought  to  be  getting  ready,"  said  Jack. 

"And  we  are  doing  little  but  eat  and  drink  and  shout 
and  bluster,"  Mr.  Adams  answered.  "We  are  being 
entertained  here  with  meats  and  curds  and  custards 
and  jellies  and  tarts  and  floating  islands  and  Madeira 
wine.  It  is  for  you  to  induce  the  people  of  Philadel- 
phia to  begin  to  save.  We  need  to  learn  Franklin's 
philosophy  of  thrift." 

Colonel  Washington  was  a  member  of  the  Virginia 
delegation.  Jack  wrote  that  he  was  in  uniform,  blue 
coat  and  red  waistcoat  and  breeches;  that  he  was  a 
big  man  standing  very  erect  and  about  six  feet,  two 


THE  FERMENT  191 

inches  in  height;  that  his  eyes  were  blue,  his  com- 
plexion light  and  rather  florid,  his  face  slightly  pock- 
marked, his  brown  hair  tinged  with  gray;  that  he  had 
the  largest  hands,  save  those  of  Solomon  Binkus,  that 
he  had  ever  seen.  His  letter  contains  these  informing 
words : 

"I  never  quite  realized  the  full  meaning  of  the  word 
'dignity'  until  I  saw  this  man  and  heard  his  deep  rich 
voice.  There  was  a  kind  of  magnificence  in  his  man- 
ner and  person  when  he  said : 

"  T  will  raise  one  thousand  men  toward  the  relief 
of  Boston  and  subsist  them  at  my  own  expense.' 

'That  was  all  he  said  and  it  was  the  most  eloquent 
speech  made  in  the  convention.  It  won  the  hearts  of 
the  New  Englanders.  Thereafter,  he  was  the  central 
figure  in  that  Congress  of  trusted  men.  It  is  also  evi- 
dent that  he  will  be  the  central  figure  on  this  side  of 
the  ocean  when  the  storm  breaks.  Next  day,  he  an- 
nounced that  he  was,  as  yet,  opposed  to  any  definite 
move  toward  independence.  So  the  delegates  con- 
tented themselves  with  a  declaration  of  rights  opposing 
importations  and  especially  slaves." 

When  the  Congress  adjourned  October  twenty-sixth 
to  meet  again  on  the  tenth  of  May,  there  was  little  hope 
of  peace  among  those  who  had  had  a  part  in  its  pro- 
ceedings. 

Jack,  who  knew  the  conditions  in  England,  knew 
also  that  war  would  come  soon,  and  freely  expressed 
his  views. 


192     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

2 

Letters  had  come  from  Margaret  giving  him  the 
welcome  news  that  Lionel  Clarke  had  recovered  and 
announcing  that  her  own  little  revolution  had  achieved 
success.  She  and  her  father  would  be  taking  ship  for 
Boston  in  December.  Jack  had  urged  that  she  try 
,to  induce  him  to  start  at  once,  feacring  that  December 
would  be  too  late,  and  so  it  fell  out.  When  the  news 
of  the  Congress  reached  London,  the  King  made  new 
plans.  He  began  to  prepare  for  war.  Sir  Benjamin 
Hare,  who  was  to  be  the  first  deputy  of  General  Gage, 
was  assigned  to  a  brigade  and  immediately  put  his 
regiments  in  training  for  service  overseas.  He  had 
spent  six  months  in  America  and  was  supposed,  in 
England,  to  have  learned  the  art  of  bush  fighting. 
Such  was  the  easy  optimism  of  the  cheerful  young 
Minister  of  War,  and  his  confreres,  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  After  the  arrival  of  the  King  William  at 
Gravesend  on  the  eighth  of  December,  no  English 
women  went  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  for  a  long  time. 
Thereafter  the  water  roads  were  thought  to  be  only 
Tor  fighting  men.  Jack's  hope  was  that  armed  resist- 
ance would  convince  the  British  of  their  folly. 

"A  change  of  front  in  the  Parliament  would  quickly 
end  the  war,"  he  was  wont  to  say.  Not  that  he  quite 
believed  it.  But  young  men  in  love  are  apt  to  say 
things  which  they  do  not  quite  believe.  In  February, 
1775,  he  gave  up  his  work  on  The  Gazette  to  aid  in 
the  problem  of  defense.  Solomon,  then  in  Albany,  had 


THE  FERMENT  193 

written  that  he  was  going  the  twentieth  of  that 
month  on  a  mission  to  the  Six  Nations  of  The  Long 
House. 

It  was  unusual  for  the  northern  tribes  to  hold  a 
council  in  winter — especially  during  the  moon  of  the 
hard  snow,  but  the  growing  bitterness  of  the  white 
men  had  alarmed  them.  They  had  learned  that  an- 
other and  greater  war  was  at  hand  and  they  were  rest- 
less for  fear  of  it.  The  quarrel  was  of  no  concern  to 
the  red  man,  but  he  foresaw  the  deadly  peril  of  choos- 
ing the  wrong  side.  So  the  wise  men  of  the  tribes 
were  coming  into  council. 

"If  we  fight  England,  we  got  to  have  the  Injuns  on 
our  side  er  else  Tryon  County  won't  be  no  healthy 
place  fer  white  folks,"  Solomon  wrote.  "I  wished  you 
could  go  'long  with  me  an'  show  'em  the  kind  o'  shoot- 
in'  we'll  do  ag'in'  the  English  an'  tell  'em  they  could 
count  the  leaves  in  the  bush  easier  than  the  men  in  the 
home  o'  the  south  wind,  an'  all  good  shooters.  Put  on 
a  big,  two-story  bearskin  cap  with  a  red  ribband  tied 
around  it  an'  bring  plenty  o'  gewgaws.  I  don't  care 
what  they  be  so  long  as  they  shine  an'  rattle.  I  coca- 
late  you  an'  me  could  do  good  work." 

Immediately  the  young  man  packed  his  box  and  set 
out  by  stage  on  his  way  to  the  North.  Near  West 
Point,  he  left  the  sleigh,  which  had  stopped  for  repairs, 
and  put  on  his  skates  and  with  the  wind  mostly  at  his 
back,  made  Albany  early  that  evening  on  the  river 
roof.  He  found  the  family  and  Solomon  eating  sup- 


194     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

per,  with  the  table  drawn  close  to  the  fireside,  it  being 
a  cold  night. 

"I  think  that  St.  Nicholas  was  never  more  welcome 
in  any  home  or  the  creator  of  more  happiness  than  I 
was  that  night,"  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  Margaret,  sent 
through  his  friend  Doctor  Franklin.  "What  a  glow 
was  in  the  faces  of  my  mother  and  father  and  Solomon 
Binkus — the  man  who  was  so  liked  in  London !  What 
cries  of  joy  came  from  the  children!  They  clung  to 
me  and  my  little  brother,  Josiah,  sat  on  my  knee  while 
I  ate  my  sausage  and  flapjacks  and  maple  molasses.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  supper  hour  for,  belike,  I  was 
hungry  enough  to  eat  an  ox.  You  would  never  see  a 
homecoming  like  that  in  England,  I  fancy.  Here  the 
family  ties  are  very  strong.  We  have  no  opera,  no 
theater,  no  balls  and  only  now  and  then  a  simple  party 
of  neighborhood  folk.  We  work  hard  and  are  weary 
at  night.  So  our  pleasures  are  few  and  mostly  those 
shared  in  the  family  circles.  A  little  thing,  such  as  a 
homecoming,  or  a  new  book,  brings  a  joy  that  we  re- 
member as  long  as  we  live.  I  hope  that  you  will  not 
be  appalled  by  the  simplicity  of  my  father's  home  and 
neighborhood.  There  is  something  very  sweet  and 
beautiful  in  it,  which,  I  am  sure,  you  would  not  fail 
to  discover. 

"Philadelphia  and  Boston  are  more  like  the  cities 
you  know.  They  are  getting  ambitious  and  are  be- 
ginning to  ape  the  manners  of  England  but,  even  there, 
you  would  find  most  people  like  my  own.  The  at- 


THE  FERMENT  195 

tempts  at  grandeur  are  often  ludicrous.  In  Philadel- 
phia, I  have  seen  men  sitting  at  public  banquets  with- 
out coat  or  collar  and  drinking  out  of  bottles." 

Next  day,  Jack  and  Solomon  set  out  with  packs  and 
snow-shoes  for  The  Long  House,  which  was  the  great 
highway  of  the  Indians.  It  cut  the  province  from  the 
Hudson  to  Lake  Erie.  In  summer  it  was  roofed  by 
the  leaves  of  the  forest.  The  chief  villages  of  the  Six 
Tribes  were  on  or  near  it.  This  trail  was  probably  the 
ancient  route  of  the  cloven  hoof  on  its  way  to  the  prai- 
ries— the  thoroughfare  of  the  elk  and  the  buffalo. 
How  wisely  it  was  chosen,  time  has  shown,  for  now 
it  is  covered  with  iron  rails,  the  surveyors  having  tried 
in  vain  to  find  a  better  one. 

Late  in  the  second  day  out,  they  came  suddenly  on  a 
young  moose.  Jack  presented  his  piece  and  brought 
the  animal  down.  They  skinned  him  and  cut  out  the 
loins  and  a  part  of  each  hind  quarter.  When  Solomon 
wrapped  the  meat  in  a  part  of  the  hide  and  slung  it 
over  his  shoulder,  night  was  falling. 

"Cat's  blood  an'  gunpowder!  The  ol'  night  has  a 
sly  foot,"  said  Solomon.  "We  won't  see  no  Crow 
Hill  tavern.  We  got  t'  make  a  snow  house." 

On  the  south  side  of  a  steep  hill  near  them  was  a 
deep,  hard  frozen  drift.  Solomon  cut  the  crust  with 
his  hatchet  and  began  moving  big  blocks  of  snow. 
Soon  he  had  made  a  cavern  in  the  great  white  pile,  a 
fathom  deep  and  high,  and  as  long  as  a  full  grown 
man.  They  put  in  a  floor  of  balsam  boughs  and 

. 


196    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

spread  their  blankets  on  it.  Then  they  cut  a  small 
dead  pine  and  built  a  fire  a  few  feet  in  front  of  their 
house  and  fried  some  bacon  and  a  steak  and  made 
snow  water  and  a  pot  of  tea.  The  steak  and  bacon 
were  eaten  on  slices  of  bread  without  knife  or  fork. 
Their  repast  over,  Solomon  made  a  rack  and  began 
jerking  the  meat  with  a  slow  fire  of  green  hardwood 
smoldering  some  three  feet  below  it.  The  "jerk" 
under  way,  they  reclined  on  their  blankets  in  the  snow 
house  secure  from  the  touch  of  a  cold  wind  that  swept 
down  the  hillside,  looking  out  at  the  dying  firelight 
while  Solomon  told  of  his  adventures  in  the  Ohio 
country. 

Jack  was  a  bit  afflicted  with  "snow-shoe  evil,"  being 
unaccustomed  to  that  kind  of  travel,  and  he  never  for- 
got the  sense  of  relief  and  comfort  which  he  found  in 
the  snow  house,  or  the  droll  talk  of  Solomon. 

"You're  havin'  more  trouble  to  git  married  than  a 
Mingo  brave,"  Solomon  said  to  Jack. "  'Mongst  them, 
when  a  boy  an'  gal  want  to  git  married,  both  f am' lies 
have  to  go  an'  take  a  sweat  together.  They  heat  a  lot 
o'  rocks  an'  roll  'em  into  a  pen  made  o'  sticks  put  in 
crotches  an'  covered  over  with  skins  an'  blankets.  The 
hot  rocks  turn  it  into  a  kind  o'  oven.  They  all  crawl 
in  thar  an'  begin  to  sweat  an'  hoot  an'  holler.  You 
kin  hear  'em  a  mile  off.  It's  a  reg'lar  hootin'  match. 
I'd  call  it  a  kind  o'  camp  meetin'.  When  they  holler 
it  means  that  the  devil  is  lettin'  go.  They're  bein' 
purified.  It  kind  o'  seasons  'em  so  they  kin  stan'  the 


THE  FERMENT  197 

heat  o'  a  family  quarrel.  When  Injuns  have  had  the 
grease  sweat  out  of  'em,  they  know  suthin'  has  hap- 
pened. The  women'll  talk  fer  years  'bout  the  weddin' 
sweat." 

Now  and  then,  as  he  talked,  Solomon  arose  to  put 
more  wood  on  the  fire  and  keep  "the  jerk  sizzling." 
Just  before  he  lay  down  for  the  night,  he  took  some 
hard  wood  coals  and  stored  them  in  a  griddle  full  of 
hot  ashes  so  as  to  save  tinder  in  the  morning. 

They  were  awakened  in  the  night  by  the  ravening 
of  a  pack  of  wolves  at  the  carcass  of  the  slain  moose, 
which  lay  within  twenty  rods  of  the  snow  camp.  They 
were  growling  and  snapping  as  they  tore  the  meat 
from  the  bones.  Solomon  rose  and  drew  on  his  boots. 

"Cat's  blood  an'  gunpowder!  I  thought  the  smell 
o'  the  jerk  would  bring  'em,"  Solomon  whispered. 
"Say,  they's  quite  a  passel  o'  wolves  thar — you  hear 
to  me.  No,  I  ain't  skeered  o'  them  thar  whelps,  but  it's 
ag'in'  my  principles  to  go  to  sleep  if  they's  nuthin'  but 
air  'twixt  me  an'  them.  They  might  be  jest  fools 
'nough  to  think  I  were  good  eatin' ;  which  I  ain't.  I 
guess  it's  'bout  time  to  take  keer  o'  this  'ere  jerk  an' 
start  up  a  fire.  I  won't  give  them  loafers  nothin'  but 
hell,  if  they  come  'round  here — not  a  crumb." 

Solomon  went  to  work  with  his  ax  in  the  moon- 
light, while  Jack  kindled  up  the  fire. 

"We  don't  need  to  tear  off  our  buttons  hurryin'," 
said  the  former,  as  he  flung  down  a  dead  spruce  by  the 
fireside  and  began  chopping  it  into  sticks.  "They 


198     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

won't  be  lookin'  for  more  fodder  till  they've  picked  the 
bones  o'  that  'ere  moose.  Don't  make  it  a  big  fire  ei 
you'll  melt  our  roof.  We  jest  need  a  little  belt  o'  blaze 
eround  our  front.  Our  rear  is  safe.  Chain  lightnin' 
couldn't  slide  down  this  'ere  hill  without  puttin'  on  the 
brakes." 

Soon  they  had  a  good  stack  of  wood  inside  the  fire 
line  and  in  the  pile  were  some  straight  young  birches. 
Solomon  made  stakes  of  these  and  drove  them  deep  in 
the  snow  close  up  to  the  entrance  of  their  refuge,  mak- 
ing a  stockade  with  an  opening  in  the  middle  large 
enough  for  a  man  to  pass  through.  Then  they  sat 
down  on  their  blankets,  going  out  often  to  put  wood 
on  the  fire.  While  sitting  quietly  with  their  rifles  in 
hand,  they  observed  that  the  growling  and  yelping  had 
ceased. 

"They've  got  that  'ere  moose  in  their  packs,"  Sole  • 
mon  whispered.  "Now  keep  yer  eye  peeled.  They'll 
be  snoopin'  eround  here  to  git  our  share.  You  see." 

In  half  a  moment,  Jack's  rifle  spoke,  followed  by  the 
loud  yelp  of  a  wolf  well  away  from  the  firelight. 

"Uh,  huh!  You  warmed  the  wax  in  his  ear,  that's 
sart'in;"  said  Solomon  as  Jack  was  reloading.  "Did 
ye  hear  him  say  'Don't'  ?" 

The  scout's  rifle  spoke  and  another  wolf  yelped. 

"Yer  welcome,"  Solomon  shouted.  "I  slammed  that 
'er  hunk  o'  lead  into  the  pack  leader — a  whale  of  a 
wolf.  The  ol'  Cap'n  stepped  right  up  clus.  Seen  'im 
plain — gray,  long  legged  ol'  whelp.  He  were  walkin5 


THE  FERMENT  199 

towards  the  fire  when  he  stubbed  his  toe.  It's  all  over 
now.  They'll  snook  erway.  The  army  has  lost  its 
Gin'ral." 

They  saw  nothing  more  of  the  wolf  pack  and  after 
an  hour  or  so  of  watching,  they  put  more  wood  on  the 
fire,  filled  the  opening  in  their  stockade  and  lay  down 
to  rest.  Solomon  called  it  a  night  of  "one-eyed  sleep" 
when  they  got  up  at  daylight  and  rekindled  the  fire 
and  washed  their  hands  and  faces  in  the  snow.  The 
two  dead  wolves  lay  within  fifty  feet  of  the  fire  and 
Solomon  cut  off  the  tail  of  the  larger  one  for  a 
souvenir. 

They  had  more  steak  and  bread,  moistened  with  tea, 
for  breakfast  and  set  out  again  with  a  good  store  of 
jerked  meat  in  their  packs.  So  they  proceeded  on  their 
journey,  as  sundry  faded  clippings  inform  us,  spending 
their  nights  thereafter  at  rude  inns  or  in  the  cabins  of 
settlers  until  they  had  passed  the  village  of  the  Mo- 
hawks, where  they  found  only  a  few  old  Indians  and 
their  squaws  and  many  dogs  and  young  children.  The 
chief  and  his  sachems  and  warriors  and  their  wives  had 
gone  on  to  the  great  council  fire  in  the  land  of  Kiodote, 
the  Thorny  Tree. 

They  spent  a  night  in  the  little  cabin  tavern  of  Bill 
Scott  on  the  upper  waters  of  the  Mohawk.  Mrs.  Scott, 
a  comely  woman  of  twenty-six,  had  been  a  sister  of 
Solomon's  wife.  She  and  the  scout  had  a  pleasant 
visit  about  old  times  in  Cherry  Valley  where  they  had 
spent  a  part  of  their  childhood,  and  she  was  most 


200    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

thoughtful  and  generous  in  providing  for  their  com- 
fort. The  Scotts  had  lost  two  children  and  another, 
a  baby,  was  lying  asleep  in  the  cradle.  Scott  was  a 
hard  working,  sullen  sort  of  a  man  who  made  his  liv- 
ing chiefly  by  selling  rum  to  the  Indians.  Solomon 
used  to  say  that  he  had  been  "hooked  by  the  love  o' 
money  an'  et  up  by  land  hunger." 

"You'll  have  to  git  away  from  The  Long  House," 
Solomon  said  to  Scott.  "One  reason  I  come  here  was 
to  tell  ye." 

"What  makes  ye  think  so?"  Scott  asked. 

"The  Injuns'll  hug  ye  when  they're  drunk  but  they'll 
hate  ye  when  they're  sober,"  Solomon  answered. 
"They  lay  all  their  trouble  to  fire-water  an'  they're 
right.  If  the  cat  jumps  the  wrong  way  an'  they  go  on 
the  war-path,  ye  got  to  look  out." 

"I  ain't  no  way  skeered,"  was  Scott's  answer.  He 
had  a  hoarse,  damp  voice  that  suggested  the  sound  of 
rum  gurgling  out  of  a  jug.  His  red  face  indicated 
that  he  was  himself  too  fond  of  the  look  and  taste  of 
fire-water. 

"Ye  got  to  git  erway  from  here  I  tell  ye,"  Solomon 
insisted. 

Scott  stroked  his  sandy  beard  and  answered :  "I 
guess  I  know  my  business  'bout  as  well  as  you  do." 

"Le's  go  back  to  Cherry  Valley,  Bill,"  the  woman 
urged. 

"Oh,  keep  yer  trap  shet,"  Scott  said  to  her. 

"He's  as  selfish  as  a  he-bear."  said  Solomon  as  he 


THE  FERMENT  201 

and  Jack  were  leaving  soon  after  daylight.  "Don't 
think  o'  nuthin'  but  gittin'  rich.  Keeps  swappin'  fire- 
water fer  land  an'  no  idee  o'  the  danger." 

They  left  the  woman  in  tears. 

"It's  awful  lonesome  here.  I'll  never  see  ye  ag'in," 
she  declared  as  she  stood  wiping  her  eyes  with  her 
apron. 

"Here  now — you  behave !"  Solomon  exclaimed.  "I'll 
toddle  up  to  your  door  some  time  next  summer." 

"Mirandy  is  a  likely  womern — I  tell  ye,"  Solomon 
whispered  as  they  went  away.  "He  is  a  mean  devil! 
Ain't  the  kind  of  a  man  fer  her — nary  bit.  A  rum 
bottle  is  the  only  comp'ny  he  keers  fer." 

They  often  spoke  of  the  pathetic  loneliness  of  this 
good-looking,  kindly,  mismated  woman.  Jack  and 
Solomon  reached  the  council  on  the  fifth  day  of  their 
travel.  There,  a  level  plain  in  the  forest  was  covered 
with  Indians  and  the  snow  trodden  smooth.  Around 
it  were  their  tents  and  huts  and  houses.  There  were 
males  and  females,  many  of  the  latter  in  rich  silks  and 
scarlet  cloths  bordered  with  gold  fringe.  Some  wore 
brooches  and  rings  in  their  noses.  Among  them  were 
handsome  faces  and  erect  and  noble  forms. 

In  the  center  of  the  plain  stood  a  great  stack  of 
wood  and  green  boughs  of  spruce  and  balsam  built  up 
in  layers  for  the  evening  council  fire. 

Old  Kiodote  knew  Solomon  and  remembered  Jack, 
whom  he  had  seen  in  the  great  council  at  Albany 
in  1761. 


202     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"He  says  your  name  was  'Boiling  Water/  "  Solomon 
said  to  Jack  after  a  moment's  talk  with  the  chief.  ,*? 

"He  has  a  good  memory,"  the  young  man  answered. 

The  two  white  men  were  invited  to  take  part  in  the 
games.  All  the  warriors  had  heard  of  Solomon's  skill 
with  a  rifle.  "Son  of  the  Thunder,"  they  called  him 
in  the  League  of  the  Iroquois.  The  red  men  gathered 
in  great  numbers  to  see  him  shoot.  Again,  as  of  old, 
they  were  thrilled  by  his  feats  with  the  rifle,  but  when 
Jack  began  his  quick  and  deadly  firing,  crushing  but- 
ternuts thrown  into  the  air,  with  rifle  and  pistol,  a  kind 
of  awe  possessed  the  crowd.  Many  came  and  touched 
him  and  stared  into  his  face  and  called  him  "The 
Brother  of  Death." 

3 

Solomon's  speech  that  evening  before  the  council 
fire  impressed  the  Indians.  He  had  given  much 
thought  to  its  composition  and  Jack  had  helped  him  in 
the  invention  of  vivid  phrases  loved  by  the  red  men. 
He  addressed  them  in  the  dialect  of  the  Senecas,  that 
being  the  one  with  which  he  was  most  familiar.  He 
spoke  of  the  thunder  cloud  of  war  coming  up  in  the 
east  and  the  cause  of  it  and  begged  them  to  fight  with 
their  white  neighbors,  under  the  leadership  of  The 
Great  Spirit  for  the  justice  which  He  loved.  Solomon 
had  brought  them  many  gifts  in  token  of  the  friendship 
of  himself  and  his  people. 

Old  Theandenaga,  of  the  Mohawks,  answered  him 
in  a  speech  distinguished  by  its  noble  expressions  of 


THE  FERMENT  203 

good  will  and  by  an  eloquent,  but  not  ill-tempered, 
account  of  the  wrongs  of  the  red  men.  He  laid  par- 
ticular stress  on  the  corrupting  of  the  young  braves 
with  fire-water. 

"Let  all  bad  feeling  be  buried  in  a  deep  pool,"  Solo- 
mon answered.  "There  are  bad  white  men  and  there 
are  bad  Indians  but  they  are  not  many.  The  good  men 
are  like  the  leaves  of  the  forest — you  can  not  count 
them — but  the  bad  man  is  like  the  scent  pedlar.* 
Though  he  is  but  one,  he  can  make  much  trouble." 

Every  judgment  of  the  league  in  council  had  to  be 
unanimous.  They  voted  in  sections,  whereupon  each 
section  sent  its  representative  into  the  higher  council 
and  no  verdict  was  announced  until  its  members  were 
of  one  mind.  The  deliberations  were  proceeding 
toward  a  favorable  judgment  as  Solomon  thought, 
when  Guy  Johnson  arrived  from  Johnson  Castle  with 
a  train  of  pack  bearers.  A  wild  night  of  drunken  rev- 
elry followed  his  arrival.  Jack  and  Solomon  were 
lodging  at  a  log  inn,  kept  by  a  Dutch  trader,  half  a 
mile  or  so  from  the  scene  of  the  council.  A  little  past 
midnight,  the  trader  came  up  into  the  loft  where  they 
were  sleeping  on  a  heap  of  straw  and  awakened 
Solomon. 

"Come  down  the  ladder,"  said  the  Dutchman.  "A 
young  squaw  has  come  out  from  the  council.  She 
will  speak  to  you." 

Solomon  slipped  on  his  trousers,  coat  and  boots,  and 


*The  skunk 


204     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

went  below.  The  squaw  was  sitting  on  the  floor 
against  the  wall.  A  blanket  was  drawn  over  the  back 
of  her  head.  Her  handsome  face  had  a  familiar  look. 

"Put  out  the  light,"  she  whispered  in  English. 

The  candle  was  quickly  snuffed  and  then: 

"I  am  the  Little  White  Birch,"  she  said.  "You  and 
my  beautiful  young  brave  were  good  to  me.  You  took 
me  to  the  school  and  he  kissed  my  cheek  and  spoke 
words  like  the  song  of  the  little  brown  bird  of  the 
forest.  I  have  come  here  to  warn  you.  Turn  away 
from  the  great  camp  of  the  red  man.  Make  your  feet 
go  fast.  The  young  warriors  are  drunk.  They  will 
come  here  to  slay  you.  I  say  go  like  the  rabbit  when 
he  is  scared.  Before  daylight,  put  half  a  sleep  between 
you  and  them." 

Solomon  called  Jack  and  in  the  darkness  they 
quickly  got  ready  to  go.  The  Dutchman  could  give 
them  only  a  loaf  of  bread,  some  salt  and  a  slab  of 
bacon.  The  squaw  stood  on  the  door-step  watching 
while  they  were  getting  ready.  Snow  was  falling. 

"They  are  near,"  she  whispered  when  the  men  came 
out.  "I  have  heard  them." 

She  held  Jack's  hand  to  her  lips  and  said : 

"Let  me  feel  your  face.  I  can  not  see  it.  I  shall 
see  it  not  again  this  side  of  the  Happy  Hunting- 
Grounds." 

For  a  second  she  touched  the  face  of  the  young  man 
and  he  kissed  her  forehead. 


THE  FERMENT  205 

» 

"This  way,"  she  whispered.  "Now  go  like  the 
snow  in  the  wind,  my  beautiful  pale  face." 

"Can  we  help  you?"  Jack  queried.  "Will  you  go 
with  us  back  to  the  white  man's  school?" 

"No,  I  am  old  woman  now.  I  have  taken  the  yoke 
of  the  red  man.  In  the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds 
maybe  the  Great  Spirit  will  give  me  a  pale  face.  Then 
I  will  go  with  my  father  and  his  people  and  my  beauti- 
ful young  brave  will  take  me  to  his  house  and  not  be 
ashamed.  Go  now.  Good-by." 

"Little  White  Birch,  I  give  you  this,"  said  Jack,  as 
he  put  in  her  hand  the  tail  of  the  great  gray  wolf,  beau- 
tifully adorned  with  silver  braid  and  blue  ribbands. 

It  was  snowing  hard.  Jack  and  Solomon  started 
toward  a  belt  of  timber  east  of  the  log  inn.  Before 
they  reached  it,  their  clothes  were  white  with  snow — a 
fact  which  probably  saved  their  lives.  They  were  shot 
at  from  the  edge  of  the  bush.  Solomon  shouted  to 
Jack  to  come  on  and  wisely  ran  straight  toward  the 
spot  from  which  the  rifle  flashes  had  proceeded.  In 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  Jack  shot  an  Indian  with  his 
pistol.  The  red  man  was  loading.  So  they  got 
through  what  appeared  to  be  a  cordon  around  the  house 
and  cut  into  the  bush. 

"They  won't  foller  us,"  said  Solomon,  as  the  two 
stopped  presently  to  pUc  on  their  snow-shoes. 

"What  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"They  don't  keer  to  see  us  lessen  they're  hid.    We 


206     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

• 

are  the  Son  o'  the  Thunder  an'  the  Brother  o'  Death. 
It  would  hurt  to  see  us.  The  second  our  eyes  drop 
on  an  Injun,  he's  got  a  hole  in  his  guts  an'  they  know 
it.  They'd  ruther  go  an'  set  down  with  a  jug  o'  rum." 

"It  was  a  low  and  devilish  trick  to  bring  fire-water 
into  that  camp,"  said  Jack. 

"Guy  Johnson  is  mean  enough  to  steal  acorns  from 
a  blind  hog,"  Solomon  answered. 

Suddenly  they  heard  a  loud  whooping  in  the  dis- 
tance and  looking  back  into  the  valley  they  saw  a  great 
flare  of  light. 

"They've  put  the  torch  to  the  tavern  and  will  have  a 
dance,"  said  Solomon.  "We  got  out  jest  in  time." 

"I  am  afraid  for  the  Little  White  Birch,"  said  Jack. 

"They'll  let  her  alone.  She  is  one  of  the  wives  of  ol' 
Theandenaga.  She  will  lead  the  Dutchman  an'  his 
family  to  the  house  o'  the  great  chief.  She  won't  let 
'em  be  hurt  if  she  kin  help  it.  She  knowed  they  was 
a'ter  us." 

"Why  do  they  want  to  kill  us?"  Jack  queried. 

"  'Cause  they're  goin'  to  fight  with  the  British  an' 
we  shoot  so  damn  well  they  want  to  git  us  out  o'  the 
way  an'  do  it  sly  an'  without  gittin'  hurt.  But  fer  the 
squaw,  we'd  be  hoppin'  eround  in  that  'ere  loft  like 
a  pair  o'  rats.  They'd  'a'  sneaked  the  Dutchman  an' 
his  folks  outdoors  with  tommyhawks  over  their  heads 
and.  scattered  grease  an'  gunpowder  an'  boughs  on  the 
floor,  an*  set  'er  goin'  an*  me  an'  you  asleep  above  the 
ladder.  I  reckon  we'd  had  to  do  some  climbin'  an' 


THE  FERMENT  207 

they's  no  tellin'  where  we'd  'a'  landed,  which  there  ain't 
do  doubt  'bout  that." 

Solomon  seemed  to  know  his  way  by  an  instinct 
like  that  of  a  dog.  They  were  in  the  deep  woods  trav- 
eling by  snow  light  without  a  trail.  Jack  felt  sure  they 
were  going  wrong,  but  he  said  nothing.  By  and  by 
there  was  a  glow  in  the  sky  ahead.  The  snow  had 
ceased  falling  and  the  heavens  were  clear. 

"Ye  see  we're  goin'  right,"  said  Solomon.  "The 
sun'll  be  up  in  half  an  hour,  but  afore  we  swing  to  the 
trail  we  better  git  a  bite.  Gulf  Brook  is  down  yender 
in  the  valley  an'  I'd  kind  o'  like  to  taste  of  it." 

They  proceeded  down  a  long,  wooded  slope  and 
came  presently  to  the  brook  whose  white  floored  aisle 
was  walled  with  evergreen  thickets  heavy  with  snow. 
Beneath  its  crystal  vault  they  could  hear  the  song  of 
the  water.  It  was  a  grateful  sound  for  they  were  warm 
and  thirsty.  Near  the  point  where  they  deposited  their 
packs  was  a  big  beaver  dam. 

Solomon  took  his  ax  and  teapot  and  started  up 
stream. 

."Want  to  git  cl'ar  'bove,"  said  he. 

"Why?"  Jack  inquired. 

"This  'ere  is  a  beaver  nest,"  said  Solomon. 

He  returned  in  a  moment  with  his  pot  full  of  beau- 
tiful clear  water  of  which  they  drank  deeply. 

"Ye  see  the  beavers  make  a  dam  an'  raise  the  water," 
Solomon  explained.  "When  it  gits  a  good  ice  roof  so 
thick  the  sun  won't  burn  a  hole  in  it  afore  spring,  they 


208     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

tap  the  dam  an'  let  the  water  out.  Then  they've  got 
a  purty  house  to  live  in  with  a  floor  o'  clean  water  an* 
a  glass  roof  an'  plenty  o'  green  popple  sticks  stored 
in  the  corners  to  feed  on.  They  have  stiddy  weather 
down  thar — no  cold  winds  'er  deep  snow  to  bother 
'em.  When  the  roof  rots  an'  breaks  in  the  sunlight 
an'  slides  off  they  patch  up  the  dam  with  mud  an' 
sticks  an'  they've  got  a  swimmin'  hole  to  play  in." 

They  built  a  fire  and  spread  their  blankets  on  a  bed 
of  boughs  and  had  some  hot  tea  and  jerked  meat  and 
slices  of  bread  soaked  in  bacon  fat. 

"Ye  see  them  Injuns  is  doomed,"  said  Solomon. 
"Some  on  'em  has  got  good  sense,  but  rum  kind  o' 
kills  all  argeyment.  Rum  is  now  the  great  chief  o' 
the  red  man.  Rum  an'  Johnson  '11  win  'em  over.  Sir 
William  was  their  Great  White  Father.  They  trusted 
him.  Guy  an'  John  have  got  his  name  behind  'em. 
The  right  an'  wrong  o'  the  matter  ain't  able  to  git  un- 
der the  Injun's  hide.  They'll  go  with  the  British  an* 
burn,  an'  rob,  an'  kill.  The  settlers  '11  give  hot  blood 
to  their  childern.  The  Injun  '11  be  forever  a  brother 
to  the  snake.  We  an'  our  childern  an'  gran'childern  '11 
curse  him  an'  meller  his  head.  The  League  o'  the  Iro- 
quois  '11  be  scattered  like  dust  in  the  wind,  an'  we'll 
wonder  where  it  has  gone.  But  'fore  then,  they's  goin' 
to  be  great  trouble.  The  white  settlers  has  got  to  give 
up  their  land  an'  move,  'er  turn  Tory,  'er  be  tommy- 
hawked." 


THE  FERMENT  209 

With  a  sense  of  failure,  they  slowly  made  their  way 
back  to  Albany,  riding  the  last  hilf  of  it  on  the  sled 
of  a  settler  who  was  going  to  the  river  city  with  a  grist 
and  a  load  of  furs. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ADVENTURES  IN  THE  SERVICE   OF  THE   COMMANDER- 
IN-CHIEF 

SOON  after  they  reached  home  Jack  received  a  let- 
ter from  Doctor  Franklin  who  had  given  up  his  fruit- 
less work  in  London  and  returned  to  Philadelphia. 

It  said:  "My  work  in  England  has  been  fruitless 
and  I  am  done  with  it.  I  bring  you  much  love  from 
the  fair  lady  of  your  choice.  That,  my  young  friend, 
is  a  better  possession  than  houses  and  lands,  for  even 
the  flames  of  war  can  not  destroy  it.  I  have  not  seen, 
in  all  this  life  of  mine,  a  dearer  creature  or  a  nobler 
passion.  And  I  will  tell  you  why  it  is  dear  to  me,  as 
well  as  to  you.  She  is  like  the  good  people  of  England 
whose  heart  is  with  the  colonies,  but  whose  will  is 
being  baffled  and  oppressed.  Let  us  hope  it  may  not  be 
for  long.  My  good  wishes  for  you  involve  the  whole 
race  whose  blood  is  in  my  veins.  That  race  has  ever 
been  like  the  patient  ox,  treading  out  the  corn,  whose 
leading  trait  is  endurance. 

"There  is  little  light  in  the  present  outlook.  You 
and  Binkus  will  do  well  to  come  here.  This,  for  a 
time,  will  be  the  center  of  our  activities  and  you  may 
be  needed  any  moment." 

Jack  and  Solomon  went  to  Philadelphia  soon  after 

210 


ADVENTURES   IN  THE  SERVICE     211 

news  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  had  reached  Albany 
in  the  last  days  of  April.  They  were  among  the  cheer- 
ing crowds  that  welcomed  the  delegates  to  the  Second 
Congress. 

Colonel  Washington,  the  only  delegate  in  uniform, 
was  the  most  impressive  figure  in  the  Congress.  He 
had  come  up  with  a  coach  and  six  horses  from  Vir- 
ginia. The  Colonel  used  to  say  that  even  with  six 
horses,  one  had  a  slow  and  rough  journey  in  the  mud 
and  sand.  His  dignity  and  noble  stature,  the  fame 
he  had  won  in  the  Indian  wars  and  his  wisdom  anc], 
modesty  in  council,  had  silenced  opposition  and 
opened  his  way.  He  was  a  man  highly  favored  of 
Heaven.  The  people  of  Philadelphia  felt  the  power 
of  his  personality.  They  seemed  to  regard  him  with 
affectionate  awe.  All  eyes  were  on  him  when  he 
walked  around.  Not  even  the  magnificent  Hancock  or 
the  eloquent  Patrick  Henry  attracted  so  much  atten- 
tion. Yet  he  would  stop  in  the  street  to  speak  to  a 
child  or  to  say  a  pleasant  word  to  an  old  acquaintance 
as  he  did  to  Solomon. 

That  day  in  June  when  the  beloved  Virginian  was 
chosen  to  be  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  American 
forces,  Jack  and  Solomon  dined  with  Franklin  at  his 
home.  John  Adams  of  Boston  and  John  Brown,  the 
great  merchant  of  Providence,  were  his  other  guests. 
The  distinguished  men  were  discussing  the  choice  of 
Colonel  Washington. 


212     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  think  that  Ward  is  a  greater  soldier,"  said  Brown. 
"Washington  has  done  no  fighting  since  '58.  Our  bat- 
tles will  be  in  the  open.  He  is  a  bush  fighter." 

"True,  but  he  is  a  fighter  and,  like  Achilles,  a  born 
master  of  men,"  Franklin  answered.  "His  fiery  en- 
ergy saved  Braddock's  army  from  being  utterly  wiped 
out.  His  gift  for  deliberation  won  the  confidence  of 
Congress.  He  has  wisdom  and  personality.  He  can 
express  them  in  calm  debate  or  terrific  action.  Above 
all,  he  has  a  sense  of  the  oneness  of  America.  Massa- 
chusetts and  Georgia  are  as  dear  to  him  as  Virginia." 

"He  is  a  Christian  gentleman  of  proved  courage  and 
great  sagacity,"  said  Adams.  "His  one  defeat  proved 
him  to  be  the  master  of  himself.  It  was  a  noble 
defeat." 

Doctor  Franklin,  who  never  failed  to  shew  some 
token  of  respect  for  every  guest  at  his  table,  turned 
to  Solomon  and  said : 

"Major  Binkus,  you  have  been  with  him  a  good  deal. 
What  do  you  think  of  Colonel  Washington  ?" 

"I  think  he's  a  hull  four  hoss  team  an'  the  dog 
under  the  waggin,"  said  Solomon. 

John  Adams  often  quoted  these  words  of  the  scout 
and  they  became  a  saying  in  New  England. 

"To  ask  you  a  question  is  like  priming  a  pump," 
said  Franklin,  as  he  turned  to  Solomon  with  a  laugh. 
"Washington  is  about  four  times  the  average  man, 
with  something  to  spare  and  that  something  is  the  dog 
under  the  wagon.  It  would  seem  that  the  Lord  God 


ADVENTURES   IN  THE   SERVICE     213 

has  bred  and  prepared  and  sent  him  among  us  to  be 
chosen.  We  saw  and  knew  and  voted.  There  v;as  no 
room  for  doubt  in  my  mind." 

"And  while  I  am  a  friend  of  Ward,  I  am  after  all 
convinced  that  Washington  is  the  man,"  said  Brown. 
"Nothing  so  became  him  as  when  he  called  upon  all 
gentlemen  present  to  remember  that  he  thought  him- 
self unequal  to  the  task." 

Washington  set  out  in  June  with  Colonel  Lee  and  a 
company  of  Light  Horse  for  Boston  where  some  six- 
teen thousand  men  had  assembled  with  their  rifles  and 
muskets  to  be  organized  into  an  army  for  the  defense 
of  Massachusetts. 

2 

A  little  later  Jack  and  Solomon  followed  with  eight 
horses  and  two  wagons  loaded  with  barrels  of  gun- 
powder made  under  the  direction  of  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin and  paid  for  with  his  money.  A  British  fleet  being 
in  American  waters,  the  overland  route  was  chosen  as 
the  safer  one.  It  was  a  slow  and  toilsome  journey 
with  here  and  there  a  touch  of  stern  adventure.  Cross- 
ing the  pine  barrens  of  New  Jersey,  they  were  held  up 
by  a  band  of  Tory  refugees  and  deprived  of  all  the 
money  in  their  pockets.  Always  Solomon  got  a  squint 
in  one  eye  and  a  solemn  look  in  the  other  when  that 
matter  was  referred  to. 

"  'Twere  all  due  to  the  freight,"  he  said  to  a  friend. 
"Ye  see  their  guns  was  p'intin'  our  way  and  behind  us 
were  a  ton  o*  gunpowder.  She's  awful  particular  com- 


214     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

p'ny.  Makes  her  nervous  to  have  anybody  nigh  her 
that's  bein'  shot  at.  Ye  got  to  be  peaceful  an'  p'lite. 
Don't  let  no  argements  come  up.  If  some  feller  wants 
yer  money  an'  has  got  a  gun  it'll  be  cheaper  to  let  him 
have  it.  I  tell  ye  she's  an  uppity,  hot-tempered  ol'  crit- 
ter— got  to  be  treated  jest  so  er  she'll  stomp  her  foot 
an'  say,  'Scat,'  an'  then- 
Solomon  smiled  and  gave  his  right  hand  a  little  up- 
ward fling  and  said  no  more,  having  lifted  the  burden 
off  his  mind. 

On  the  post  road,  beyond  Horse  Neck  in  Connecti- 
cut, they  had  a  more  serious  adventure.  They  had 
been  traveling  with  a  crude  map  of  each  main  road, 
showing  the  location  of  houses  in  the  settled  country 
where,  at  night,  they  could  find  shelter  and  hospitality. 
Owing  to  the  peculiar  character  of  their  freight,  the 
Committee  in  Philadelphia  had  requested  them  to  avoid 
inns  and  had  caused  these  maps  to  be  sent  to  them  at 
post-offices  on  the  road  indicating  the  homes  of  trusted 
patriots  from  twenty  to  thirty  miles  apart.  About  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening  of  July  twentieth,  they  reached 
the  home  of  Israel  Lockwood,  three  miles  above  Horse 
Neck.  They  had  ridden  through  a  storm  which  had 
shaken  and  smitten  the  earth  with  its  thunder-bolts 
some  of  which  had  fallen  near  them.  Mr.  Lockwood 
directed  them  to  leave  their  wagons  on  a  large  empty 
barn  floor  and  asked  them  in  to  supper. 

"If  you'll  bring  suthin'  out  to  us,  I  guess  we  better 
stay  by  her,"  said  Solomon.  "She  might  be  nervous." 


ADVENTURES   IN  THE  SERVICE     215 

"Do  you  have  to  stay  with  this  stuff  all  the  while?" 
Lockwood  asked. 

"Night  an'  day,"  said  Solomon.  "Don't  do  to  let  'er 
git  lonesome.  To-day  when  the  lightnin'  were  slappin' 
the  ground  on  both  sides  o'  me,  I  wanted  to  hop  down 
an'  run  off  in  the  bush  a  mile  er  so  fer  to  see  the  ken- 
try,  but  I  jest  had  to  set  an'  hope  that  she  would  hold 
her  temper  an'  not  go  to  slappin'  back." 

"She,"  as  Solomon  called  the  two  loads,  was  a  most 
exacting  mistress.  They  never  left  her  alone  for  a 
moment.  While  one  was  putting  away  the  horses 
the  other  was  on  guard.  They  slept  near  her  at 
night. 

Israel  Lockwood  sat  down  for  a  visit  with  them 
when  he  brought  their  food.  While  they  were  eating, 
another  terrific  thunder-storm  arrived.  In  the  midst 
of  it  a  bolt  struck  the  barn  and  rent  its  roof  open  and 
set  the  top  of  the  mow  afire.  Solomon  jumped  to  the 
rear  wheel  of  one  of  the  wagons  while  Jack  seized  the 
tongue.  In  a  second  it  was  rolling  down  the  barn 
bridge  and  away.  The  barn  had  filled  with  smoke  and 
cinders  but  these  dauntless  men  rolled  out  the  second 
wagon. 

Rain  was  falling.  Solomon  observed  a  wisp  of 
smoke  coming  out  from  under  the  roof  of  this  wagon. 
He  jumped  in  and  found  a  live  cinder  which  had 
burned  through  the  cover  and  fallen  on  one  of  the 
barrels.  It  was  eating  into  the  wood.  Solomon  tossed 
it  out  in  the  rain  and  smothered  "the  live  spot."  He 


216    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

examined  the  barrels  and  the  wagon  floor  and  was 
satisfied.  In  speaking  of  that  incident  next  day  he 
said  to  Jack : 

"If  I  hadn't  'a'  had  purty  good  control  o'  my  legs, 
I  guess  they'd  'a'  run  erway  with  me.  I  had  to  put  the 
whip  on  'em  to  git  'em  to  step  in  under  that  wagon 
roof — you  hear  to  me." 

While  Solomon  was  engaged  with  this  trying  duty, 
Lockwood  had  led  the  horses  out  of  the  stable  below 
and  rescued  the  harness.  A  heavy  shower  was  falling. 
The  flames  had  burst  through  the  roof  and  in  spite  of 
the  rain,  the  structure  was  soon  destroyed. 

"The  wind  was  favorable  and  we  all  stood  watching 
the  fire,  safe  but  helpless  to  do  anything  for  our  host," 
Jack  wrote  in  a  letter.  "Fortunately  there  was  another 
house  near  and  I  took  the  horses  to  its  barn  for  the 
night.  We  slept  in  a  woodshed  close  to  the  wagons. 
We  slipped  out  of  trouble  by  being  on  hand  when  it 
started.  If  we  had  gone  into  the  house  for  supper, 
I'm  inclined  to  think  that  the  British  would  not  have 
been  driven  out  of  Boston. 

"We  passed  many  companies  of  marching  riflemen. 
In  front  of  one  of  these,  the  fife  and  drum  corps  play- 
ing behind  him,  was  a  young  Tory,  who  had  insulted 
the  company,  and  was,  therefore,  made  to  carry  a  gray 
goose  in  his  arms  with  this  maxim  of  Poor  Richard 
on  his  back :  'Not  every  goose  has  feathers  on  him.' 

"On  the  twentieth  we  reported  to  General  Washing- 
ton in  Cambridge.  This  was  the  first  time  I  saw  him 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE   SERVICE     217 

in  the  uniform  of  a  general.  He  wore  a  blue  coat  with 
buff  facings  and  buff  underdress,  a  small  sword,  rich 
epaulets,  a  black  cockade  in  his  three-cornered  hat,  and 
a  blue  sash  under  his  coat.  His  hair  was  done  up  in 
a  queue.  He  was  in  boots  and  spurs.  He  received  us 
politely,  directing  a  young  officer  to  go  with  us  to  the 
powder  house.  There  we  saw  a  large  number  of  barrels. 

"'All  .full -of  sand/  the  officer  whispered.  'We 
keep  'em  here  to  fool  the  enemy/ 

"Not  far  from  the  powder  house  I  overheard  this  lit- 
tle dialogue  between  a  captain  and  a  private. 

"  'Bill,  go  get  a  pail  o'  water/  said  the  captain. 

"  'I  shan't  do  it.  "Tain't  my  turn/  the  private  an- 
swered." 

The  men  and  officers  were  under  many  kinds  of  shel- 
ter in  the  big  camp.  There  were  tents  and  marquees 
and  rude  structures  built  of  boards  and  roughly  hewn 
timber,  and  of  stone  and  turf  and  brick  and  brush. 
Some  had  doors  and  windows  wrought  out  of  withes 
knit  together  in  the  fashion  of  a  basket.  There  were 
handsome  young  men  whose  thighs  had  never  felt  the 
touch  of  steel;  elderly  men  in  faded,  moth-eaten  uni- 
forms and  wigs. 

In  their  possession  were  rifles  and  muskets  of  vary- 
ing size,  age  and  caliber.  Some  of  them  had  helped  to 
make  the  thunders  of  Naseby  and  Marston  Moor. 
There  were  old  sabers  which  had  touched  the  ground 
when  the  hosts  of  Cromwell  had  knelt  in  prayer. 

Certain  of  the  men  were  swapping  clothes.    No  uni- 


218     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

forms  had  been  provided  for  this  singular  assemblage 
of  patriots  all  eager  for  service.  Sergeants  wore  a 
strip  of  red  on  the  right  shoulder;  corporals  a  strip 
of  green.  Field  officers  mounted  a  red  cockade;  cap- 
tains flaunted  a  like  signal  in  yellow.  Generals  wore 
a  pink  ribband  and  aides  a  green  one. 

This  great  body  of  men  which  had  come  to  besiege 
Boston  was  able  to  shoot  and  dig.  That  is  about  all 
they  knew  of  the  art  of  war.  Training  had  begun  in 
earnest.  The  sergeants  were  working  with  squads; 
Generals  Lee  and  Ward  and  Green  and  Putnam  and 
Sullivan  with  companies  and  regiments  from  daylight 
to  dark. 

Jack  was  particularly  interested  in  Putnam — a  short, 
rugged,  fat,  white-haired  farmer  from  Connecticut  of 
bluff  manners  and  nasal  twang  and  of  great  animation 
for  one  of  his  years — he  was  then  fifty-seven.  He  was 
often  seen  flying  about  the  camp  on  a  horse.  The 
young  man  had  read  of  the  heroic  exploits  of  this  vet- 
eran of  the  Indian  wars. 

Their  mission  finished,  that  evening  Jack  and  Solo- 
mon called  at  General  Washington's  headquarters. 

"General,  Doctor  Franklin  told  us  to  turn  over  the 
hosses  and  wagons  to  you,"  said  Solomon.  "He  didn't 
tell  us  what  to  do  with  ourselves  'cause  'twasn't  nec'- 
sary  an'  he  knew  it.  We  want  to  enlist." 

"For  what  term  ?" 

"Till  the  British  are  licked." 

"You  are  the  kind  of  men  I  need."  said  Washing- 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE   SERVICE     219 

ton.  "I  shall  put  you  on  scout  duty.  Mr.  Irons  will 
go  into  my  regiment  of  sharp  shooters  with  the  rank 
of  captain.  You  have  told  me  of  his  training  in 
Philadelphia." 

3 

So  the  two  friends  were  enlisted  and  began  service 
in  the  army  of  Washington. 

A  letter  from  Jack  to  his  mother  dated  July  25, 
1775,  is  full  of  the  camp  color : 

"General  Charles  Lee  is  in  command  of  my  regi- 
ment," he  writes.  "He  is  a  rough,  slovenly  old  dog 
of  a  man  who  seems  to  bark  at  us  on  the  training 
ground.  He  has  two  or  three  hunting  dogs  that  live 
with  him  in  his  tent  and  also  a  rare  gift  of  profanity 
which  is  with  him  everywhere — save  at  headquarters. 

"To-day  I  saw  these  notices  posted  in  camp : 

"  'Punctual  attendance  on  divine  service  is  required 
of  all  not  on  actual  duty.' 

"  'No  burning  of  the  pope  allowed/ 

"  'Fifteen  stripes  for  denying  duty/ 

"  'Ten  for  getting  drunk.' 

"  'Thirty-nine  for  stealing  and  desertion.* 

"Rogues  are  put  in  terror,  lazy  men  are  energized. 
The  quarters  are  kept  clean,  the  food  is  well  cooked 
and  in  plentiful  supply,  but  the  British  over  in  town 
are  said  to  be  getting  hungry." 

Early  in  August  a  London  letter  was  forwarded  to 
Jack  from  Philadelphia.  He  was  filled  with  new  hope 
as  he  read  these  lines : 


220     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Dearest  Jack :  I  am  sailing  for  Boston  on  one  of 
the  next  troop  ships  to  join  my  father.  So  when  the 
war  ends — God  grant  it  may  be  soon! — you  will  not 
have  far  to  go  to  find  me.  Perhaps  by  Christmas  time 
we  may  be  together.  Let  us  both  pray  for  that.  Mean- 
while, I  shall  be  happier  for  being  nearer  you  and  for 
doing  what  I  can  to  heal  the  wounds  made  by  this 
wretched  war.  I  am  going  to  be  a  nurse  in  a  hos- 
pital. You  see  the  truth  is  that  since  I  met  you,  I  like 
all  men  better,  and  I  shall  love  to  be  trying  to  relieve 
their  sufferings  .  .  ." 

It  was  a  long  letter  but  above  is  as  much  of  it  as 
can  claim  admission  to  these  pages. 

"Who  but  she  could  write  such  a  letter?"  Jack  asked 
himself,  and  then  he  held  it  to  his  lips  a  moment.  It 
thrilled  him  to  think  that  even  then  she  was  probably 
in  Boston.  In  the  tent  where  he  and  Solomon  lived 
when  they  were  both  in  camp,  he  found  the  scout. 
The  night  before  Solomon  had  slept  out.  Now  he  had 
built  a  small  fire  in  front  of  the  tent  and  lain  down  on 
a  blanket,  having  delivered  his  report  at  headquarters. 

"Margaret  is  in  Boston,"  said  Jack  as  soon  as  he 
entered,  and  then  standing  in  the  firelight  read  the 
letter  to  his  friend. 

"Thar  is  a  real,  genewine,  likely  gal,"  said  the  scout. 

"I  wish  there  were  some  way  of  getting  to  her," 
the  young  man  remarked. 

"Might  as  well  think  o'  goin'  to  hell  an'  back  ag'in," 
said  Solomon.  "Since  Bunker  Hill  the  British  are 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE  SERVICE     221 

like  a  lot  o'  hornets.  I  run  on  to  one  of  'em  to-day. 
He  fired  at  me  an'  didn't  hit  a  thing  but  the  air  an' 
run  like  a  scared  rabbit.  Could  'a'  killed  him  easy  but 
I  kind  o'  enjoyed  seein'  him  run.  He  were  like  chain 
lightnin'  on  a  greased  pole — you  hear  to  me.'' 

"If  the  General  will  let  me,  I'm  going  to  try  spy 
duty  and  see  if  I  can  get  into  town  and  out  again," 
he  proposed. 

"You  keep  out  o'  that  business,"  said  Solomon. 
"They's  too  many  that  know  ye  over  in  town.  The 
two  Clarkes  an'  their  friends  an'  Colonel  Hare  an'  his 
friends,  an'  Cap.  Preston,  an'  a  hull  passle.  They 
know  all  'bout  ye.  If  you  got  snapped,  they'd  stan' 
ye  ag'in'  a  wall  an'  put  ye  out  o'  the  way  quick.  It 
would  be  pie  for  the  Clarkes,  an'  the  ol'  man  Hare 
wouldn't  spill  no  tears  over  it.  Cap.  Preston  couldn't 
save  ye  that's  sart'in.  No,  sir,  I  won't  'low  it.  They's 
plenty  o'  old  cusses  fer  such  work." 

For  a  time  Jack  abandoned  the  idea,  but  later,  when 
Solomon  failed  to  return  from  a  scouting  tour  and  a 
report  reached  camp  that  he  was  captured,  the  young 
man  began  to  think  of  that  rather  romantic  plan  again. 
He  had  grown  a  full  beard;  his  skin  was  tanned;  his 
clothes  were  worn  and  torn  and  faded.  His  father, 
who  had  visited  the  camp  bringing  a  supply  of  clothes 
for  his  son,  had  failed,  at  first,  to  recognize  him. 

December  had  arrived.  The  General  was  having  his 
first  great  trial  in  keeping  an  army  about  him.  Terms 
of  enlistment  were  expiring.  Cold  weather  had  come. 


222     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

The  camp  was  uncomfortable.  Regiments  of  the  home- 
sick lads  of  New  England  were  leaving  or  preparing  to 
leave.  Jack  and  a  number  of  young  ministers  in  the 
service  organized  a  campaign  of  persuasion  and  many 
were  prevailed  upon  to  reenlist.  But  hundreds  of  boys 
were  hurrying  homeward  on  the  frozen  roads.  The 
southern  riflemen,  who  were  a  long  journey  from  their 
homes,  had  not  the  like  temptation  to  break  away.  Bit- 
ter rivalry  arose  between  the  boys  of  the  north  and 
the  south.  The  latter,  especially  the  Virginia  lads, 
were  in  handsome  uniforms.  They  looked  down  upon 
the  awkward,  homespun  ranks  in  the  regiments  of 
Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut.  Then 
came  the  famous  snowball  battle  between  the  boys  of 
Virginia  and  New  England.  In  the  midst  of  it,  Wash- 
ington arrived  and,  leaping  from  his  white  horse,  was 
quickly  in  the  thick  of  the  fight.  He  seized  a  couple 
of  Virginia  lads  and  gave  them  a  shaking. 

"No  more  of  this/'  he  commanded. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  The  men  were  run- 
ning toward  their  quarters. 

"There  is  a  wholesome  regard  here  for  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief,"  Jack  wrote  to  his  mother.  "I  look 
not  upon  his  heroic  figure  without  a  thought  of  the 
great  burden  which  rests  upon  it  and  a  thrill  of  emo- 
tion. There  are  many  who  fear  him.  Most  severely 
he  will  punish  the  man  who  neglects  his  duty,  but  how 
gentle  and  indulgent  he  can  be,  especially  to  a  new  re- 
cruit, until  the  latter  has  learned  the  game  of  war !  He 


ADVENTURES  IN  THE  SERVICE     223 

is  like  a  good  father  to  these  thousands  of  boys  and 
young  men.  No  soldier  can  be  flogged  when  he  is 
near.  If  he  sees  a  fellow  tied  to  the  halberds,  he  will 
ask  about  his  offense  and  order  him  to  be  taken  down. 
In  camp  his  black  servant,  Bill,  is  always  with  him. 
Out  of  camp  he  has  an  escort  of  light  horse.  Morning 
and  evening  he  holds  divine  service  in  his  tent.  When 
a  man  does  a  brave  act,  the  Chief  summons  him  to 
headquarters  and  gives  him  a  token  of  his  appreciation. 
I  hope  to  be  called  one  of  these  days." 

Soon  after  this  letter  was  written,  the  young  man 
was  sent  for.  He  and  his  company  had  captured  a 
number  of  men  in  a  skirmish. 

"Captain,  you  have  done  well,"  said  the  General.  "I 
want  to  make  a  scout  of  you.  In  our  present  circum- 
stances it's  about  the  most  important,  dangerous  and 
difficult  work  there  is  to  be  done  here,  especially  the 
work  which  Solomon  Binkus  undertook  to  do.  There 
is  no  other  in  whom  I  should  have  so  much  confi- 
dence." 

"You  do  me  great  honor,"  said  Jack.  "I  shall  make 
a  poor  showing  compared  with  that  of  my  friend 
Major  Binkus,  but  I  have  some  knowledge  of  his 
methods  and  will  do  my  best." 

"You  will  do  well  to  imitate  them  with  caution," 
said  the  General.  "He  was  a  most  intrepid  and  astute 
observer.  In  the  bush  they  would  not  have  captured 
him.  The  clearings  toward  the  sea  make  the  work 
arduous  and  full  of  danger.  It  is  only  for  men  of  your 


224     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

strength  and  courage.  Major  Bartlett  knows  the  part 
of  the  line  which  Colonel  Binkus  traversed.  He  will 
be  going  out  that  way  to-morrow.  I  should  like 
you,  sir,  to  go  with  him.  After  one  trip  I  shall  be 
greatly  pleased  if  you  are  capable  of  doing  the  work 
alone." 

Orders  were  delivered  and  Jack  reported  to  Bartlett, 
an  agreeable,  middle-aged  farmer-soldier,  who  had 
been  on  scout  duty  since  July.  They  left  camp  to- 
gether next  morning  an  hour  before  reveille.  They  had 
an  uneventful  day,  mostly  in  wooded  flats  and  ridges, 
and  from  the  latter  looking  across  with  a  spy-glass  into 
Bruteland,  as  they  called  the  country  held  by  the  Brit- 
ish, and  seeing  only,  now  and  then,  an  enemy  picket  or 
distant  camps.  About  midday  they  sat  down  in  a 
thicket  together  for  a  bite  to  eat  and  a  whispered  con- 
ference. 

"Binkus,  as  you  know,  had  his  own  way  of  scout- 
ing," said  the  Major.  "He  was  an  Indian  fighter.  He 
liked  to  get  inside  the  enemy  lines  and  lie  close  an' 
watch  'em  an'  mebbe  hear  what  they  were  talking 
about.  Now  an*  then  he  would  surprise  a  British  sen- 
tinel and  disarm  him  an'  bring  him  into  camp." 

Jack  wondered  that  his  friend  had  never  spoken  of 
the  capture  of  prisoners. 

"He  was  a  modest  man,"  said  the  young  scout. 

"He  didn't  want  the  British  to  know  where  Solomon 
Binkus  was  at  work,  and  I  guess  he  was  wise,"  said 
the  Major.  "I  advise  you  against  taking  the  chances 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE   SERVICE     225 

that  he  took.  It  isn't  necessary.  You  would  be  caught 
much  sooner  than  he  was." 

That  day  Bartlett  took  Jack  over  Solomon's  trail 
and  gave  him  the  lay  of  the  land  and  much  good  ad- 
vice. A  young  man  of  Jack's  spirit,  however,  is  apt 
to  have  a  degree  of  enterprise  and  self-confidence  not 
easily  controlled  by  advice.  He  had  been  traveling 
alone  for  three  days  when  he  felt  the  need  of  more 
exciting-  action.  That  night  he  crossed  the  Charles 
River  on  the  ice  in  a  snow-storm  and  captured  a  senti- 
nel and  brought  him  back  to  camp. 

About  this  time  he  wrote  another  letter  to  the  fam- 
ily, in  which  he  said : 

"The  boys  are  coming  back  from  home  and  reen- 
listing.  They  have  not  been  paid — no  one  has  been 
paid — -but  they  are  coming  back.  More  of  them  are 
coming  than  went  away. 

"They  all  tell  one  story.  The  women  and  the  old 
men  made  a  row  about  their  being  at  home  in  time  of 
war.  On  Sunday  the  minister  called  them  shirks. 
Everybody  looked  askance  at  them.  A  committee  of 
girls  went  from  house  to  house  reenlisting  the  boys. 
So  here  they  are,  and  Washington  has  an  army,  such 
as  it  is." 

4 

Soon  after  that  the  daring  spirit  of  the  youth  led 
him  into  a  great  adventure.  It  was  on  the  night  of 
January  fifth  that  Jack  penetrated  the  British  lines  in 
a  snow-storm  and  got  close  to  an  outpost  in  a  strip  of 


226     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

forest.  There  a  camp-fire  was  burning.  He  came 
close.  His  garments  had  been  whitened  by  the  storm. 
The  air  was  thick  with  snow,  his  feet  were  muffled  in 
a  foot  of  it.  He  sat  by  a  stump  scarcely  twenty  feet 
from  the  fire,  seeing  those  in  its  light,  but  quite  invis- 
ible. There  he  could  distinctly  hear  the  talk  of  the 
Britishers.  It  related  to  a  proposed  evacuation  of  the 
city  by  Howe. 

"I'm  weary  of  starving  to  death  in  this  God-forsaken 
place,"  said  one  of  them.  "You  can't  keep  an  army 
without  meat  or  vegetables.  I've  eaten  fish  till  I'm 
getting  scales  on  me." 

"Colonel  Riffington  says  that  the  army  will  leave 
here  within  a  fortnight,"  another  observed. 

It  was  important  information  which  had  come  to 
the  ear  of  the  young  scout.  The  talk  was  that  of 
well  bred  Englishmen  who  were  probably  officers. 

"We  ought  not  to  speak  of  those  matters  aloud," 
one  of  them  remarked.  "Some  damned  Yankee  may 
be  listening  like  the  one  we  captured." 

"He  was  Amherst's  old  scout,"  said  another.  "He 
swore  a  blue  streak  when  we  shoved  him  into  jail. 
They  don't  like  to  be  treated  like  rebels.  They  want 
to  be  prisoners  of  war." 

"I  don't  know  why  they  shouldn't,"  another  an- 
swered. "If  this  isn't  a  war,  I  never  saw  one.  There 
are  twenty  thousand  men  under  arms  across  the  river 
and  they've  got  us  nailed  in  here  tighter  than  a  drum. 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE   SERVICE     a  ,7 

They  used  to  say  in  London  that  the  rebellion  was 
a  teapot  tempest  and  that  a  thousand  grenadiers  could 
march  to  the  Alleghanies  in  a  week  and  subdue  the 
country  on  the  way.  You  are  aware  of  how  far  we 
have  marched  from  the  sea.  It's  just  about  to  where 
we  are  now.  We've  gone  about  five  miles  in  eight 
months.  How  many  hundreds  of  years  will  pass 
before  we  reach  the  Alleghanies?  But  old  Gage  will 
tell  you  that  it  isn't  a  war." 

A  young  man  came  along  with  his  rifle  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Hello,  Bill !"  said  one  of  the  men.  ''Going  out  on 
post?" 

"I  am,  God  help  me,"  the  youth  answered.  "It's 
what  I'd  call  a  hell  of  a  night." 

The  sentinel  passed  close  by  Jack  on  his  way  to  his 
post.  The  latter  crept  away  and  followed,  gradually 
closing  in  upon  his  quarry.  When  they  were  well 
away  from  the  fire,  Jack  came  close  and  called,  "Bill." 

The  sentinel  stopped  and  faced  about. 

"You've  forgotten  something,"  said  Jack,  in  a  genial 
tone. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Your  caution,"  Jack  answered,  with  his  pistol 
against  the  breast  of  his  enemy.  "I  shall  have  to  kill 
you  if  you  call  or  fail  to  obey  me.  Give  me  the  rifle 
and  go  on  ahead.  When  I  say  gee  go  to  the  right,  haw 
to  the  left." 


228     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

So  the  capture  was  made,  and  on  the  way  out  Jack 
picked  up  the  sentinel  who  stood  waiting  to  be  relieved 
and  took  both  men  into  camp. 

From  documents  on  the  person  of  one  of  these 
young  Britishers,  it  appeared  that  General  Clarke  was 
in  command  of  a  brigade  behind  the  lines  which  Jack 
had  been  watching  and  robbing. 

When  Jack  delivered  his  report  the  Chief  called  him 
a  brave  lad  and  said : 

"It  is  valuable  information  you  have  brought  to  me. 
Do  not  speak  of  it.  Let  me  warn  you,  Captain,  that 
from  now  on  they  will  try  to  trap  you.  Perhaps,  even, 
you  may  look  for  daring  enterprises  on  that  part  of 
their  line." 

The  General  was  right.  The  young  scout  ran  into 
a  most  daring  and  successful  British  enterprise  on  the 
twentieth  of  January.  The  snow  had  been  swept 
away  in  a  warm  rain  and  the  ground  had  frozen  bare, 
or  it  would  not  have  been  possible.  Jack  had  got  to  a 
strip  of  woods  in  a  lonely  bit  of  country  near  the  Brit- 
ish lines  and  was  climbing  a  tall  tree  to  take  observa- 
tions when  he  saw  a  movement  on  the  ground  beneath 
him.  He  stopped  and  quickly  discovered  that  the  tree 
was  surrounded  by  British  soldiers.  One  of  them, 
who  stood  with  a  raised  rifle,  called  to  him : 

"Irons,  I  will  trouble  you  to  drop  your  pistols  and 
come  down  at  once." 

Jack  saw  that  he  had  run  into  an  ambush.  He 
dropped  his  pistols  and  came  down.  He  had  disre- 


ADVENTURES   IN  THE   SERVICE     229 

garded  the  warning  of  the  General.  He  should  have 
been  looking  out  for  an  ambush.  A  squad  of  five  men 
stood  about  him  with  rifles  in  hand.  Among  them  was 
Lionel  Clarke,  his  right  sleeve  empty. 

"We've  got  you  at  last — you  damned  rebel!"  said 
Clarke. 

"I  suppose  you  need  some  one  to  swear  at,"  Jack 
answered. 

"And  to  shoot  at,"  Clarke  suggested. 

"I  thought  that  you  would  not  care  for  another 
match  with  me,"  the  young  scout  remarked  as  they 
began  to  move  away. 

"Hereafter  you  will  be  treated  like  a  rebel  and  not 
like  a  gentleman,"  Clarke  answered. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean  that  you  will  be  standing,  blindfolded 
against  a  wall." 

"That  kind  of  a  threat  doesn't  scare  me,"  Jack  an- 
swered. "We  have  too  many  of  your  men  in  our 
hands." 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  BOSTON  JAIL 

JACK  was  marched  under  a  guard  into  the  streets 
of  Boston.  Church  bells  were  ringing.  It  was  Sun- 
day morning.  Young  Clarke  came  with  the  guard 
beyond  the  city  limits.  They  had  seemed  to  be  very 
careless  in  the  control  of  their  prisoner.  They  gave 
him  every  chance  to  make  a  break  for  liberty.  Jack 
was  not  fooled. 

"I  see  that  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,"  said  Jack 
to  the  young  officer.  "You'd  like  to  have  me  run  a 
race  with  your  bullets.  That  is  base  ingratitude.  I 
was  careful  of  you  when  we  met  and  you  do  not  seem 
to  know  it." 

"I  know  how  well  you  can  shoot,"  Clarke  answered. 
"But  you  do  not  know  how  well  I  can  shoot." 

"And  when  I  learn,  I  want  to  have  a  fair  chance  for 
my  life." 

Beyond  the  city  limits  young  Clarke,  who  was  then 
a  captain,  left  them,  and  Jack  proceeded  with  the 
others. 

The  streets  were  quiet — indeed  almost  deserted. 
There  were  no  children  playing  on  the  common.  A 
crowd  was  coming  out  of  one  of  the  churches.  In  the 
midst  of  it  the  prisoner  saw  Preston  and  Lady  Hare. 
They  were  so  near  that  he  could  have  touched  them 

230 


IN  BOSTON  JAIL  231 

with  his  hand  as  he  passed.  They  did  not  see  him. 
He  noted  the  name  of  the  church  and  its  minister.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  was  delivered  at  the  jail — a  noisome, 
ill-smelling,  badly  ventilated  place.  The  jailer  was  a 
tall,  slim,  sallow  man  with  a  thin  gray  beard.  His  face 
and  form  were  familiar.  He  heard  Jack's  name  with 
a  look  of  great  astonishment.  Then  the  young  man 
recognized  him.  He  was  Mr.  Eliphalet  Pinhorn,  who 
had  so  distinguished  himself  on  the  stage  trip  to  Phila- 
delphia some  years  before. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  we  met,"  said  Jack. 

Mr.  Pinhorn's  face  seemed  to  lengthen.  His  mouth 
and  eyes  opened  wide  in  a  silent  demand  for  informa- 
tion. 

Jack  reminded  him  of  the  day  and  circumstances. 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Pinhorn  held  his  hand  against 
his  forehead  and  was  dumb  with  astonishment.  Then 
he  said: 

"I  knew !    I  foresaw !    But  it  is  not  too  late." 

"Too  late  for  what?" 

"To  turn,  to  be  redeemed,  loved,  forgiven.  Think 
it  over,  sir.  Think  it  over." 

Jack's  name  and  age  and  residence  were  registered. 
Then  Pinhorn  took  his  arm  and  walked  with  him 
down  the  corridor  toward  an  open  door.  About  half- 
way to  the  door  he  stopped  and  put  his  hand  on  Jack's 
shoulder  and  said  with  a  look  of  great  seriousness : 

"A  sinking  cause!  Death!  Destruction!  Misery! 
The  ship  is  going  down.  Leave  it." 


232     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"You  are  misinformed.  There  is  no  leak  in  our 
ship/'  said  Jack. 

Mr.  Pinhorn  shut  his  eyes  and  shook  his  head 
mournfully.  Then,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  he  pro- 
nounced the  doom  of  the  western  world  in  one  whis- 
pered word : 

"Ashes!" 

For  a  moment  his  face  and  form  were  alive  with 
exclamatory  suggestion.  Then  he  shook  his  head  and 
said: 

"Doomed!  Poor  soul!  Go  out  in  the  yard  with 
your  fellow  rebels.  They  are  taking  the  air." 

The  yard  was  an  opening  walled  in  by  the  main 
structure  and  its  two  wings  and  a  wooden  fence  some 
fifteen  feet  high.  There  was  a  ragged,  dirty  rabble 
of  "rebel"  prisoners,  among  whom  was  Solomon 
Binkus,  all  out  for  an  airing.  The  old  scout  had  lost 
flesh  and  color.  He  held  Jack's  hand  and  stood  for  a 
moment  without  speaking. 

"I  never  was  so  glad  and  so  sorry  in  my  life,"  said 
Solomon.  "It's  a  hell-mogrified  place  to  be  in.  Smells 
like  a  blasted  whale  an'  is  as  cold  as  the  north  side  of 
a  grave  stun  on  a  Janooary  night,  an'  starvation  fare, 
an'  they's  a  man  here  that's  come  down  with  the  small- 
pox. How'd  ye  git  ketched  ?" 

Jack  briefly  told  of  his  capture. 

"I  got  sick  one  day  an'  couldn't  hide  'cause  I  were 
makin'  tracks  in  the  snow  so  I  had  to  give  in,"  said 
Solomon.  "Margaret  has  been  here,  but  they  wop't 


IN  BOSTON  JAIL  233 

let  'er  come  no  more  'count  o'  the  smallpox.  Sends 
me  suthin'  tasty  ev'ry  day  er  two.  I  tol'  er  all  'bout 
ye.  I  guess  the  smallpox  couldn't  keep  'er  'way  if  she 
knowed  you  was  here.  But  she  won't  be  'lowed  to 
know  it.  This  'ere  Clarke  boy  has  p'isoned  the  jail. 
Nobody  '11  come  here  'cept  them  that's  dragged.  He's 
got  it  all  fixed  fer  ye.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  he'd  be 
glad  to  see  ye  rotted  up  with  smallpox." 

"What  kind  of  a  man  is  Pinhorn?" 

"A  whey-faced  hypercrit  an'  a  Tory.  Licks  the  feet 
o'  the  British  when  they  come  here." 

Jack  and  Solomon  lay  for  weeks  in  this  dirty, 
noisome  jail,  where  their  treatment  was  well  calculated 
to  change  opinions  not  deeply  rooted  in  firm  soil.  They 
did  not  fear  the  smallpox,  as  both  were  immune.  But 
their  confinement  was,  as  doubtless  it  was  intended  to 
be,  memorably  punitive.  They  were  "rebels" — law- 
breakers, human  rubbish  whose  offenses  bordered  upon 
treason.  The  smallpox  patient  was  soon  taken  away, 
but  other  conditions  were  not  improved.  They  slept 
on  straw  infested  with  vermin.  Their  cover  and  food 
were  insufficient  and  "not  fit  fer  a  dog,"  in  the  words 
of  Solomon.  Some  of  the  boys  gave  in  and  were  set 
free  on  parole,  and  there  was  one,  at  least,  who  went 
to  work  in  the  ranks  of  the  British. 

There  is  a  passage  in  a  letter  of  Jack  Irons  regard- 
ing conditions  in  the  jail  which  should  be  quoted  here : 

"One  boy  has  lung  fever  and  every  night  I  hear  him 
sobbing.  His  sorrow  travels  like  fire  among  the 


234     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

weaker  men.  I  have  heard  a  number  of  cold,  half- 
starved,  homesick  lads  crying  like  women  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  night.  It  makes  me  feel  like  letting  go  my- 
self. There  is  one  man  who  swears  like  a  trooper 
when  it  begins.  I  suppose  that  I  shall  be  as  hysterical 
as  the  rest  of  them  in  time.  I  don't  believe  General 
Howe  knows  what  is  going  on  here.  The  jail  is  run 
by  American  Tories,  who  are  wreaking  their  hatred 


on  us." 


Jack  sent  a  line  to  the  rector  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, where  he  had  seen  Preston  and  Lady  Howe,  in- 
viting him  to  call,  but  saw  him  not,  and  no  word  came 
from  him.  Letters  were  entrusted  to  Mr.  Pinhorn 
for  Preston,  Margaret  and  General  Sir  Benjamin  Hare 
with  handsome  payment  for  their  delivery,  but  they 
waited  in  vain  for  an  answer. 

"They's  suthin'  wrong  'bout  this  'ere  business/'  said 
Solomon.  "You'll  find  that  ol'  Pinhorn  has  got  a  pair 
o'  split  hoofs  under  his  luther." 

One  day  Jack  was  sent  for  by  Mr.  Pinhorn  and  con- 
ducted to  his  office. 

"Honor!  Good  luck!  Relief!"  was  the  threefold 
exclamation  with  which  the  young  man  was  greeted. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Jack  inquired. 

"General  Howe !  You !  Message  to  Mr.  Washing- 
ton I  To-night!" 

"Do  you  mean  General  Washington?" 

"No.    Mister !    Title  not  recognized  here !" 


IN  BOSTON  JAIL  235 

"I  shall  take  no  message  to  'Mr.'  Washington,"  Jack 
answered.  "If  I  did,  I  am  sure  that  he  would  not  re- 
ceive it." 

Mr.  Pinhorn's  face  expressed  a  high  degree  of  aston- 
ishment. 

"Pride!  Error!  Persistent  error!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Never  mind!  Details  can  be  fixed.  You  are  to  go 
to-night.  Return  to-morrow!" 

The  prospect  of  getting  away  from  his  misery  even 
for  a  day  or  two  was  alluring. 

"Let  me  have  the  details  in  writing  and  I  will  let 
you  know  at  once,"  he  answered. 

The  plan  was  soon  delivered.  Jack  was  to  pass  the 
lines  on  the  northeast  front  in  the  vicinity  of  Breed's 
Hill  with  a  British  sergeant,  under  a  white  flag,  and 
proceed  to  Washington's  headquarters. 

"Looks  kind  o'  neevarious,"  said  Solomon  when 
they  were  out  in  the  jail  yard  together.  "Looks  like 
ye  might  be  grabbed  in  the  jaws  o'  a  trap.  Nobody's 
name  is  signed  to  this  'ere  paper.  There's  nothin'  be- 
hind the  hull  thing  but  ol'  Pinhorn  an' — who?  I'm 
skeered  o'  Mr.  Who  ?  Pinhorn-  an'  Who  an'  a  Dark 
Night!  There's  a  pardnership!  Kind  o'  well  mated! 
They  want  ye  to  put  yer  life  in  their  hands.  What 
fer?  Wai,  ye  know  it  'pears  to  me  they'd  be  apt  to 
be  car'less  with  it.  It's  jest  possible  that  there's  some 
feller  who'll  be  happier  if  you  was  rubbed  off  the  slate. 
War  is  goin*  on  an*  you  belong  to  that  breed  o'  pups 


236     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

they  call  rebels.  A  dead  rebel  don't  cause  no  hard 
feelin's  in  the  British  army.  Now,  Jack,  you  stay 
where  ye  be.  'Tain't  a  fust  rate  place,  but  it's  better'n 
a  hole  in  the  ground.  Suthin'  is  goin'  to  happen — you 
mark  my  words,  boy.  I  kind  o'  think  Margaret  is  git- 
tin'  anxious  to  talk  with  me  an'  kin't  be  kept  erway  no 
longer.  Mebbe  the  British  army  is  goin'  to  move.  Ye 
know  fer  two  days  an'  nights  we  been  hearin'  can- 
non fire." 

"Solomon,  I'm  not  going  out  to  be  shot  in  the  back," 
said  the  young  man.  "If  I  am  to  be  executed,  it  must 
be  done  with  witnesses  in  proper  form.  I  shall  refuse 
to  go.  If  Margaret  should  come,  and  it  is  possible,  I 
want  you  to  sit  down  with  her  in  front  of  my  cell  so 
that  I  can  see  her,  but  do  not  tell  her  that  I  am  here. 
It  would  increase  her  trouble  and  do  no  good.  Be- 
sides, I  could  not  permit  myself  to  touch  her  hand 
even,  but  I  would  love  to  look  into  her  face." 

So  it  happened  that  the  proposal  which  had  come  to 
Jack  through  Mr.  Pinhorn  was  firmly  declined,  where- 
upon the  astonishment  of  that  official  was  expressed  in 
a  sorrowful  gesture  and  the  exclamation :  "Doomed ! 
Stubborn  youth !" 

2 

Solomon  Binkus  was  indeed  a  shrewd  man.  In  the 
faded  packet  of  letters  is  one  which  recites  the  history 
of  the  confinement  of  the  two  scouts  in  the  Boston  jail. 
It  tells  of  the  coming  of  Margaret  that  very  evening 
with  an  order  from  the  Adjutant  General  directing 


IN  BOSTON  JAIL  237 

Mr.  Pinhorn  to  allow  her  to  talk  with  the  "rebel  pris- 
oner Solomon  Binkus." 

The  official  conducted  her  to  the  iron  grated  door 
in  front  of  Solomon's  cell. 

"I  will  talk  with  him  in  the  corridor,  if  you  please," 
she  said,  as  she  gave  the  jailer  a  guinea,  whereupon 
he  became  most  obliging.  The  cell  door  was  opened 
and  chairs  were  brought  for  them  to  sit  upon.  Can- 
nons were  roaring  again  and  the  sound  was  nearer 
than  it  had  been  before. 

"Have  you  heard  from  Jack?"  she  asked  when  they 
were  seated  in  front  of  the  cell  of  the  latter. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  He  is  well,  but  like  a  man  shot  with 
rock  salt." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Sufferin',"  Solomon  answered.  "Kind  o'  riddled 
with  thoughts  o'  you  an'  I  wouldn't  wonder." 

"Did  you  get  a  letter?"  she  asked. 

"No.  A  young  officer  who  was  ketched  an'  brought 
here  t'other  day  has  told  me  all  'bout  him." 

"Is  the  officer  here?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  Solomon  answered. 

"I  want  to  see  him — I  want  to  talk  with  him.  I 
must  meet  the  man  who  has  come  from  the  presence 
of  my  Jack." 

Solomon  was  visibly  embarrassed.  He  was  in  trou- 
ble for  a  moment  and  then  he  answered :  "I'm  'fraid 
'twouldn't  do  no  good." 

"Why?" 


238     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"  'Cause  he's  deef  an'  dumb." 

"But  do  you  not  understand?  It  would  be  a  com- 
fort to  look  at  him." 

"He's  in  this  cell,  but  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  call 
him,"  Solomon  assured  her. 

She  went  to  Jack's  door  and  peered  at  him  through 
the  grating.  He  was  lying  on  his  straw  bed.  The 
light  which  came  from  candles  set  in  brackets  on  the 
stone  wall  of  the  corridor  was  dim. 

"Poor,  poor  fellow !"  she  exclaimed.  "I  suppose  he 
is  thinking  of  his  sweetheart  or  of  some  one  very  dear 
to  him.  His  eyes  are  covered  with  his  handkerchief. 
So  you  have  lately  seen  the  boy  I  love !  How  I  wish 
you  could  tell  me  about  him!" 

The  voice  of  the  young  lady  had  had  a  curious  ef- 
fect upon  that  nerve-racked,  homesick  company  of  sol- 
dier lads  in  prison.  Doubtless  it  had  reminded  some 
of  dear  and  familiar  voices  which  they  had  lost  hope 
of  hearing  again. 

One  began  to  groan  and  sob,  then  another  and  an- 
other. 

"Ain't  that  like  the  bawlin'  o'  the  damned?"  Solo- 
mon asked.  "Some  on  'em  is  sick ;  some  is  wore  out. 
They're  all  half  starved !" 

"It  is  dreadful!"  said  she,  as  she  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  handkerchief.  "I  can  not  help  thinking  that 
any  day  he  may  have  to  come  here.  I  shall  go  to 
see  General  Howe  to-night." 

"To-morrer  I'll  git  this  'ere  boy  to  write  out  all  he 


IN  BOSTON  JAIL  239 

knows  'bout  Jack,  but  if  ye  see  it,  ye'll  have  to  come 
'ere  an'  let  me  put  it  straight  into  yer  hands,"  Solomon 
assured  her. 

"I'll  be  here  at  ten  o'clock,"  she  said,  and  went  away. 

Pinhorn  stepped  into  the  corridor  as  Solomon  called 
to  Jack : 

"Things  be  goin'  to  improve,  ol'  man.  Hang  on  to 
yer  hosses.  The  English  people  is  to  have  a  talk  with 
General  Howe  to-night  an'  suthin'  '11  be  said,  now  you 
hear  to  me.  That  damn  German  King  ain't  a-goin'  to 
have  his  way  much  longer  here  in  Boston  jail." 

Early  next  morning  shells  began  to  fall  in  the  city. 
Suddenly  the  firing  ceased.  At  nine  o'clock  all  pris- 
oners in  the  jail  were  sent  for,  to  be  exchanged.  Pres- 
ton came  with  the  order  from  General  Howe  and  news 
of  a  truce. 

"This  means  yer  army  is  lightin'  out,"  Solomon  said 
to  him. 

"The  city  will  be  evacuated,"  was  Preston's  answer. 

"Could  I  send  a  message  to  Gin'ral  Hare's  house?" 

"The  General  and  his  brigade  and  family  sailed  for 
another  port  at  eight.  If  you  wish,  I'll  take  your  mes- 
sage." 

Solomon  delivered  to  Preston  a  letter  written  by 
Jack  to  Margaret.  It  told  of  his  capture  and  impris- 
onment. 

"Better  than  I,  you  will  know  if  there  is  good  ground 
for  these  dark  suspicions  which  have  come  to  us,"  he 
wrote.  "As  well  as  I,  you  will  know  what  a  trial  I 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JACK  AND  SOLOMON  MEET  THE  GREAT  ALLY 

THE  Selectmen  of  Boston,  seeing  the  city  threatened 
with  destruction,  had  made  terms  with  Washington  for 
the  British  army.  It  was  to  be  allowed  peaceably  to 
abandon  the  city  and  withdraw  in  its  fleet  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  vessels.  The  American  army  was  now 
well  organized  and  in  high  spirit.  Washington  waited 
on  Dorchester  Heights  for  the  evacuation  of  Boston  to 
be  completed.  Meanwhile,  a  large  force  was  sent  to 
New  York  to  assist  in  the  defense  of  that  city.  Jack 
and  Solomon  went  with  it.  On  account  of  their  physi-. 
cal  condition,  horses  were  provided  for  them,  and  on 
their  arrival  each  was  to  have  a  leave  of  tvvo  weeks, 
"for  repairs,"  as  Solomon  put  it.  They  went  up  to 
Albany  for  a  rest  and  a  visit  and  returned  eager  for 
the  work  which  awaited  them. 

They  spent  a  spring  and  summer  of  heavy  toil  in 
building  defenses  and  training  recruits.  The  country 
was  aflame  with  excitement.  Rhode  Island  and  Con- 
necticut declared  for  independence.  The  fire  ran 
across  their  borders  and  down  the  seaboard.  Other 
colonies  were  making  or  discussing  like  declarations. 
John  Adams,  on  his  way  to  Congress,  told  of  the  de- 
feat of  the  Northern  army  in  Canada  and  how  it  was 
heading  southward  "eaten  with  vermin,  diseased,  scat- 

242 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  243 

tered,  dispirited,  unclad,  unfed,  disgraced."  Colonies 
were  ignoring  the  old  order  of  things,  electing  their 
own  assemblies  and  enacting  their  own  laws.  The 
Tory  provincial  assemblies  were  unable  to  get  men 
enough  together  to  make  a  pretense  of  doing  business. 

In  June,  by  a  narrow  margin,  the  Congress  de- 
clared for  independence,  on  the  motion  of  Richard 
Henry  Lee  of  Virginia.  A  declaration  was  drafted 
and  soon  adopted  by  all  the  Provincial  Congresses.  It 
was  engrossed  on  parchment  and  signed  by  the  dele- 
gates of  the  thirteen  states  on  the  second  of  August. 
Jack  went  to  that  memorable  scene  as  an  aid  to  John 
Adams,  who  was  then  the  head  of  the  War  Board. 

He  writes  in  a  letter  to  his  friends  in  Albany : 

"They  were  a  solemn  looking  lot  of  men  with  the 
exception  of  Doctor  Franklin  and  Thomas  Jefferson 
of  Virginia.  The  latter  wore  a  long-tailed  buff  coat 
with  round  gold  buttons.  He  is  a  tall,  big-boned  man. 
I  have  never  seen  longer  arms  than  he  has.  His  wrists 
and  hands  are  large  and  powerful. 

"When  they  began  to  sign  the  parchment  he  smiled 
and  said: 

1  'Gentlemen,  Benjamin  Franklin  should  have  writ- 
ten this  document.  The  committee,  however,  knew 
well  that  he  would  be  sure  to  put  a  joke  in  it.' 

"  'Let  me  remind  you  that  behind  it  all  is  the  great- 
est joke  in  history/  said  the  philosopher. 

"  'What  is  that?'  Mr.  Jefferson  asked. 

"The  British  House  of  Lords/  said  Franklin. 


244    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"A  smile  broke  through  the  cloud  of  solemnity  on 
those  many  faces,  and  was  followed  by  a  little  ripple 
of  laughter. 

'  'The  committee  wishes  you  all  to  know  that  it  is 
indebted  to  Doctor  Franklin  for  wise  revision  of  the 
instrument,'  said  Mr.  Jefferson. 

"When  the  last  man  had  signed,  Mr.  Jefferson  rose 
and  said: 

'  'Gentlemen,  we  have  taken  a  long  and  important 
step.  On  this  new  ground  we  must  hang  together  to 
the  end.' 

'  'We  must  all  hang  together  or  assuredly  we  shall 
all  hang  separately,'  said  Franklin  with  that  gentle, 
fatherly  smile  of  his. 

"Again  the  signers  laughed. 

"Last  night  I  heard  Patrick  Henry  speak.  He 
thrilled  us  with  his  eloquence.  He  is  a  spare  but  rug- 
ged man,  whose  hands  have  been  used  to  toil  like  my 
own.  They  tell  me  that  he  was  a  small  merchant, 
farmer  and  bar-keeper  down  in  Virginia  before  he  be- 
came a  lawyer  and  that  he  educated  himself  largely 
by  the  reading  of  history.  He  has  a  rapid,  magnificent 
diction,  slightly  flavored  with  the  accent  of  the  Scot." 

2 

In  August,  Howe  had  moved  a  part  of  his  army 
from  Halifax  to  Staten  Island  and  offensive  opera- 
tions were  daily  expected  in  Washington's  army.  Jack 
hurried  to  his  regiment,  then  in  camp  with  others  on 
the  heights  back  of  Brooklyn.  The  troops  there  were 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  245 

not  ready  for  a  strong  attack.  General  Greene,  who 
was  in  command  of  the  division,  had  suddenly  fallen 
ill.  Jack  crossed  the  river  the  night  of  his  arrival  with 
a,  message  to  General  Washington.  The  latter  re- 
turned with  the  young  Colonel  to  survey  the  situation. 
They  found  Solomon  at  headquarters.  He  had  discov- 
ered British  scouts  in  the  wooded  country  near  Graves- 
end.  He  and  Jack  were  detailed  to  keep  watch  of  that 
part  of  the  island  and  its  shores  with  horses  posted  at 
convenient  points  so  that,  if  necessary,  they  could  make 
quick  reports. 

Next  day,  far  beyond  the  outposts  in  the  bush,  they 
tied  their  horses  in  the  little  stable  near  Remsen's  cabin 
on  the  south  road  and  went  on  afoot  through  the  bush. 
Jack  used  to  tell  his  friends  that  the  singular  alertness 
and  skill  of  Solomon  had  never  been  so  apparent  as  in 
the  adventures  of  that  day. 

"Go  careful,"  Solomon  warned  as  they  parted. 
"Keep  a-goin'  south  an'  don't  worry  'bout  me." 

"I  thought  that  I  knew  how  to  be  careful,  but  Solo- 
mon took  the  conceit  out  of  me,"  Jack  was  wont  to 
say.  "I  was  walking  along  in  the  bush  late  that  day 
when  I  thought  I  saw  a  move  far  ahead.  I  stopped 
and  suddenly  discovered  that  Solomon  was  standing 
beside  me. 

"I  was  so  startled  that  I  almost  let  a  yelp  out  of 
me. 

"He  beckoned  to  me  and  I  followed  him.  He  began 
to  walk  about  as  fast  as  I  had  ever  seen  Mm  go.  He 


246     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

had  been  looking  for  me.  Soon  he  slowed  his  gait  and 
said  in  a  low  voice : 

"  'Ain't  ye  a  leetle  bit  car'less?  An  Injun  wouldn't 
have  no  trouble  smashin'  yer  head  with  a  tommyhawk. 
In  this  'ere  business  ye  got  to  have  a  swivel  in  yer  neck 
an'  keep  'er  twistin'.  Ye  got  to  know  what's  goin'  on 
afore  an*  behind  ye  an'  on  both  sides.  We  must  p'int 
fer  camp.  This  mornin'  the  British  begun  to  land  an 
army  at  Gravesend.  Out  on  the  road  they's  waggin 
loads  o'  old  folks  an'  women,  an'  babies  on  their  way 
to  Brooklyn.  We  got  to  skitter  'long.  Some  o'  their 
skirmishers  have  been  workin'  back  two  ways  an'  may 
have  us  cut  off.' ' 

Suddenly  Solomon  stopped  and  lifted  his  hand  and 
listened.  Then  he  dropped  and  put  his  ear  to  the 
ground.  He  beckoned  to  Jack,  who  crept  near  him. 

"Somebody's  nigh  us  afore  an'  behind,"  he  whis- 
pered. "We  better  hide  till  dark  comes.  You  crawl 
into  that  ol'  holler  log.  I'll  nose  myself  under  a  brush 
pile." 

They  were  in  a  burnt  slash  where  the  soft  timber 
had  been  cut  some  time  before.  The  land  was  covered 
with  a  thick,  spotty  growth  of  poplar  and  wild  cherry 
and  brush  heaps  and  logs  half-rotted.  The  piece  of 
timber  to  which  Solomon  had  referred  was  the  base 
log  of  a  giant  hemlock  abandoned,  no  doubt,  because, 
when  cut,  it  was  found  to  be  a  shell.  It  was  open  only 
at  the  butt  end.  Its  opening  was  covered  by  an  im- 
mense cobweb.  Jack  brushed  it  away  and  crept  back- 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  24* 

ward  into  the  shell.  He  observed  that  many  blacl 
hairs  were  caught  upon  the  rough  sides  of  this  singular 
chamber.  Through  the  winter  it  must  have  been  the 
den  of  a  black  bear.  As  soon  as  he  had  settled  down, 
with  his  face  some  two  feet  from  the  sunlit  air  of  the 
outer  world,  Jack  observed  that  the  industrious  spider 
had  begun  again  to  throw  his  silvery  veil  over  the  great 
hole  in  the  log's  end.  He  watched  the  process.  First 
the  outer  lines  of  the  structure  were  woven  across  the 
edges  of  the  opening  and  made  fast  at  points  around 
its  imperfect  circle.  Then  the  weaver  dropped  to  op- 
posite points,  unreeling  his  slender  rope  behind  him  and 
making  it  taut  and  fast.  He  was  no  slow  and  clumsy 
workman.  He  knew  his  task  and  rushed  about,  rap- 
ijly  strengthening  his  structure  with  parallel  lines, 
having  a  common  center,  until  his  silken  floor  was  in 
place  again  a'nd  ready  for  the  death  dance  of  flies  and 
bees  and  wasps.  Soon  a  bumble  bee  was  kicking  and 
quivering  like  a  stricken  ox  on  its  surface.  The  spider 
.rushed  upon  him  and  buried  his  knives  in  the  back  and 
sides  of  his  prey.  The  young  man's  observation  of 
this  interesting  process  was  interrupted  by  the  sound 
of  voices  and  the  tread  of  feet.  They  were  British 
voices. 

"They  came  this  way.  I  saw  them  when  they 
turned,"  a  voice  was  saying.  "If  I  had  been  a  little 
closer,  I  could  have  potted  both  men  with  one  bullet." 

"Why  didn't  you  take  a  shot  anyhow?"  another 
asked. 


248    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  was  creeping  up,  trying  to  get  closer.  They  have 
had  to  hide  or  run  upon  the  heels  of  our  people." 

A  number  of  men  were  now  sitting  on  the  very  log 
in  which  Jack  was  hidden.  The  young  scout  saw  the 
legs  of  a  man  standing  opposite  the  open  end  of  the 
log.  Then  these  memorable  words  were  spoken : 

"This  log  is  good  cover  for  a  man  to  hide  in,  but 
nobody  is  hid  in  it.  There's  a  big  spider's  web  over 
the  opening." 

There  was  more  talk,  in  which  it  came  out  that  nine 
thousand  men  were  crossing  to  Gravesend. 

"Come  on,  boys,  I'm  going  back,"  said  one  of  the 
party.  Whereupon  they  went  away. 

Dusk  was  falling.  Jack  waited  for  a  move  from 
Solomon.  In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  a  stir  in  the 
brush.  Then  he  could  dimly  see  the  face  of  his  friend 
beyond  the  spider's  web. 

"Come  on,  my  son,"  the  latter  whispered. 

With  a  feeling  of  real  regret,  Jack  rent  the  veil  of 
the  spider  and  came  out  of  his  hiding-place.  He 
brushed  the  silken  threads  from  his  hair  and  brow  as 
he  whispered: 

"That  old  spider  saved  me — good  luck  to  hint!" 

"We'll  keep  clus  together,"  Solomon  whispered. 
"We  got  to  push  right  on  an'  work  'round  'em.  If  any 
one  gits  in  our  way,  he'll  have  to  change  worlds  sud- 
den, that's  all.  We  mus'  git  to  them  hosses  'fore  mid- 
night." 

Darkness  had  fallen,  but  the  moon  was  rising  when 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  249 

they  set  out.  Solomon  led  the  way,  with  that  long, 
loose  stride  of  his.  Their  moccasined  feet  were  about 
as  noiseless  as  a  cat's.  On  and  on  they  went  until 
Solomon  stopped  suddenly  and  stood  listening  and 
peering  into  the  dark  bush  beyond.  Jack  could  hear 
and  see  nothing.  Solomon  turned  and  took  a  new  di- 
rection without  a  word  and  moving  with  the  stealth  of 
a  hunted  Indian.  Jack  followed  closely.  Soon  they 
were  sinking  to  their  knees  in  a  mossy  tamarack 
swamp,  but  a  few  minutes  of  hard  travel  brought  them 
to  the  shore  of  a  pond. 

"Wait  here  till  I  git  the  canoe,"  Solomon  whispered. 

The  latter  crept  into  a  thicket  and  soon  Jack  could 
hear  him  cautiously  shoving  his  canoe  into  the  water. 
A  little  later  the  young  man  sat  in  the  middle  of  the 
shell  of  birch  bark  while  Solomon  knelt  in  its  stern 
with  his  paddle.  Silently  he  pushed  through  the  lilied 
margin  of  the  pond  into  clear  water.  The  moon  was 
hidden  behind  the  woods.  The  still  surface  of  the 
pond  was  now  a  glossy,  dark  plane  between  two  starry 
deeps — one  above,  the  other  beneath.  In  the  shadow 
of  the  forest,  near  the  far  shore,  Solomon  stopped 
and  lifted  his  voice  in  the  long,  weird  cry  of  the  great 
bush  owl.  This  he  repeated  three  times,  when  there 
came  an  answer  out  of  the  woods. 

"That's  a  warnin'  fer  ol'  Joe  Thrasher,"  Solomon 
whispered.  "He'll  go  out  an'  wake  up  the  folks  on 
his  road  an'  start  'em  movin'."  . 

They  landed  and  Solomon  hid  his  canoe  in  a  thicket. 

• 


P50    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Now  we  kin  skitter  right  long,  but  I  tell  ye  we  got 
purty  clus  to  'em  back  thar." 

"How  did  you  know  it?" 

"Got  a  whiff  o'  smoke.  They  was  strung  out  from 
the  pond  landin'  over  'crost  the  trail.  They  didn't 
cover  the  swamp.  Must  'a'  had  a  fire  for  tea  early  in 
the  evenin'.  Wherever  they's  an  Englishman,  thar's 
got  to  be  tea." 

Before  midnight  they  reached  Remsen's  barn  and 
about  two  o'clock  entered  the  camp  on  lathering  horses. 
As  they  dismounted,  looking  back  from  the  heights  of 
Brooklyn  toward  the  southeast,  they  could  see  a  great 
light  from  many  fires,  the  flames  of  which  were  leap- 
ing into  the  sky. 

"Guess  the  farmers  have  set  their  wheat  stacks 
afire,"  said  Solomon.  "They're  all  scairt  an'  started 
fer  town." 

General  Washington  was  with  his  forces  some  miles 
north  of  the  other  shore  of  the  river.  A  messenger 
was  sent  for  him.  Next  day  the  Commander-in-Chief 
found  his  Long  Island  brigades  in  a  condition  of  dis- 
order and  panic.  Squads  and  companies,  eager  for  a 
fight,  were  prowling  through  the  bush  in  the  south 
like  hunters  after  game.  A  number  of  the  new  Con- 
necticut boys  had  deserted.  Some  of  them  had  been 
captured  and  brought  back.  In  speaking  of  the  matter, 
Washington  said : 

"We  must  be  tolerant.  These  lads  are  timid.  They 
have  been  dragged  from  the  tender  scenes  of  domestic 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  251 

life.  They  are  unused  to  the  restraints  of  war.  We 
must  not  be  too  severe." 

Jack  heard  the  Commander-in-Chief  when  he  spoke 
these  words. 

"The  man  has  a  great  heart  in  him,  as  every  great 
man  must,"  he  wrote  to  his  father.  "I  am  beginning 
to  love  him.  I  can  see  that  these  thousands  in  the 
army  are  going  to  be  bound  to  him  by  an  affection  like 
that  of  a  son  for  a  father.  With  men  like  Washington 
and  Franklin  to  lead  us,  how  can  we  fail  ?" 

The  next  night  Sir  Henry  Clinton  got  around  the 
Americans  and  turned  their  left  flank.  Smallwood's 
command  and  that  of  Colonel  Jack  Irons  were  almost 
destroyed,  twenty-two  hundred  having  been  killed  or 
taken.  Jack  had  his  left  arm  shot  through  and  escaped 
only  by  the  swift  and  effective  use  of  his  pistols  and 
hanger,  and  by  good  luck,  his  horse  having  been  "only 
slightly  cut  in  the  withers."  The  American  line  gave 
way.  Its  unseasoned  troops  fled  into  Brooklyn.  There 
was  the  end  of  the  island.  They  could  go  no  farther 
without  swimming.  With  a  British  fleet  in  the  harbor 
under  Admiral  Lord  Howe,  the  situation  was  des- 
perate. Sir  Henry  had  only  to  follow  and  pen  them 
in  and  unlimber  his  guns.  The  surrender  of  more  than 
half  of  Washington's  army  would  have  to  follow.  At 
headquarters,  the  most  discerning  minds  saw  that  only 
a  miracle  could  prevent  it. 

The  miracle  arrived.  Next  day  a  fog  thicker  than 
the  darkness  of  a  clouded  night  enveloped  the  island 


252     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

and  lay  upon  the  face  of  the  waters.  Calmly,  quickly 
Washington  got  ready  to  move  his  troops.  That  night, 
under  the  friendly  cover  of  the  fog,  they  were  quietly 
taken  across  the  East  River,  with  a  regiment  of  Mar- 
blehead  sea  dogs,  under  Colonel  Glover,  manning  the 
boats.  Fortunately,  the  British  army  had  halted,  wait- 
ing for  clear  weather. 

3 

For  nearly  two  weeks  Jack  was  nursing  his  wound 
in  Washington's  army  hospital,  which  consisted  of  a 
cabin,  a  tent,  a  number  of  cow  stables  and  an  old  shed 
on  the  heights  of  Harlem.  Jack  had  lain  in  a  stable. 
Toward  the  end  of  his  confinement,  John  Adams  came 
to  see  him. 

"Were  you  badly  hurt?"  the  great  man  asked. 

"Scratched  a  little,  but  I'll  be  back  in  the  service 
to-morrow,"  Jack  replied. 

"You  do  not  look  like  yourself  quite.  I  think  that 
I  will  ask  the  Commander-in-Chief  to  let  you  go  with 
me  to  Philadelphia.  I  have  some  business  there  and 
later  Franklin  and  I  are  going  to  Staten  Island  to  con- 
fer with  Admiral  Lord  Howe.  We  are  a  pair  of  snap- 
pish old  dogs  and  need  a  young  man  like  you  to  look 
after  us.  You  would  only  have  to  keep  out  of  our 
quarrels,  attend  to  our  luggage  and  make  some  notes 
in  the  conference." 

So  it  happened  that  Jack  went  to  Philadelphia  with 
Mr.  Adams,  and,  after  two  days  at  the  house  of  Doctor 
Franklin,  set  out  with  the  two  great  men  for  the  con- 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  253 

ference  on  Staten  Island.     He  went  in  high  hope  that 
he  was  to  witness  the  last  scene  of  the  war. 

In  Amboy  he  sent  a  letter  to  his  father,  which  said : 
"Mr.  Adams  is  a  blunt,  outspoken  man.  If  things  do 
not  go  to  his  liking,  he  is  quick  to  tell  you.  Doctor 
Franklin  is  humorous  and  polite,  but  firm  as  a  God- 
placed  mountain.  You  may  put  your  shoulder  against 
the  mountain  and  push  and  think  it  is  moving,  but  it 
isn't.  He  is  established.  He  has  found  his  proper 
bearings  and  is  done  with  moving.  These  two  great 
men  differ  in  little  matters.  They  had  a  curious  quar- 
rel the  other  evening.  We  had  reached  New  Bruns- 
wick on  our  way  north.  The  taverns  were  crowded. 
I  ran  from  one  to  another  trying  to  find  entertainment 
for  my  distinguished  friends.  At  last  I  found  a  small 
chamber  with  one  bed  in  it  and  a  single  window.  The 
bed  nearly  filled  the  room.  No  better  accommodation 
was  to  be  had.  I  had  left  them  sitting  on  a  bench  in 
a  little  grove  near  the  large  hotel,  with  the  luggage 
near  them.  When  I  returned  they  were  having  a  hot 
argument  over  the  origin  of  northeast  storms,  the  Doc- 
tor asserting  that  he  had  learned  by  experiment  that 
they  began  in  the  southwest  and  proceeded  in  a  north- 
easterly direction.  I  had  to  wait  ten  minutes  for  a 
chance  to  speak  to  them.  Mr.  Adams  was  hot  faced, 
the  Doctor  calm  and  smiling.  I  imparted  the  news. 

"  'God  of  Israel !'  Mr.  Adams  exclaimed.  "Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  have  to  agree  with  you?  Must  I  also 
sleep  with  you?' 


254     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"  'Sir,  I  hope  that  you  must  not,  but  if  you  must,  I 
beg  that  you  will  sleep  more  gently  than  you  talk,'  said 
Franklin. 

"I  went  with  them  to  their  quarters  carrying  the  lug- 
gage. On  the  way  Mr.  Adams  complained  that  he  had 
picked  up  a  flea  somewhere. 

f  'The  flea,  sir,  is  a  small  animal,  but  a  big  fact/ 
said  Franklin.  'You  alarm  me.  Two  large  men  and  a 
flea  will  be  apt  to  crowd  our  quarters.' 

"In  the  room  they  argued  with  a  depth  of  feeling 
which  astonished  me,  as  to  whether  the  one  window 
should  be  open  or  closed.  Mr.  Adams  had  closed  it. 

'  'Please  do  not  close  the  window,'  said  Franklin. 
'We  shall  suffocate.' 

' '  'Sir,  I  am  an  invalid  and  afraid  of  the  night  air/ 
said  Adams  rather  testily. 

{ 'The  air  of  this  room  will  be  much  worse  for  you 
than  that  out-of-doors/  Franklin  retorted.  He  was 
then  between  the  covers.  'I  beg  of  you  to  open  the 
window  and  get  into  bed  and  if  I  do  not  prove  my 
case  to  your  satisfaction,  I  will  consent  to  its  being 
closed/ 

"I  lay  down  on  a  straw  filled  mattress  outside  their 
door.  I  heard  Mr.  Adams. open  the  window  and  get 
into  bed.  Then  Doctor  Franklin  began  to  expound  his 
theory  of  colds.  He  declared  that  cold  air  never  gave 
any  one  a  cold ;  that  respiration  destroyed  a  gallon  of 
air  a  minute  and  that  all  the  air  in  the  room  would  be 
consumed  in  an  hour.  He  went  on  and  on  and  long 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  255 

before  he  had  finished  his  argument,  Mr.  Adams  was 
snoring,  convinced  rather  by  the  length  than  the 
cogency  of  the  reasoning.  Soon  the  two  great  men, 
whose  fame  may  be  said  to  fill  the  earth,  were  asleep 
in  the  same  bed  in  that  little  box  of  a  room  and  snoring 
in  a  way  that  suggested  loud  contention.  I  had  to 
laugh  as  I  listened.  Mr.  Adams  would  seem  to  have 
been  defeated,  for,  by  and  by,  I  heard  him  muttering 
as  he  walked  the  floor." 

Howe's  barge  met  the  party  at  Amboy  and  conveyed 
them  to  the  landing  near  his  headquarters.  It  was, 
however,  a  fruitless  journey.  Howe  wished  to  nego- 
tiate on  the  old  ground  now  abandoned  forever.  The 
people  of  America  had  spoken  for  independence — a 
new,  irrevocable  fact  not  to  be  put  aside  by  ambassa- 
dors. The  colonies  were  lost.  The  concessions  which 
the  wise  Franklin  had  so  urgently  recommended  to  the 
government  of  England,  Howe  seemed  now  inclined 
to  offer,  but  they  could  not  be  entertained. 

"Then  my  government  can  only  maintain  its  dignity 
by  fighting,"  said  Howe. 

"That  is  a  mistaken  notion,"  Franklin  answered. 
"It  will  be  much  more  dignified  for  your  government 
to  acknowledge  its  error  than  to  persist  in  it." 

"We  shall  fight,"  Howe  declared. 

"And  you  will  have  more  fighting  to  do  than  you 
anticipate,"  said  Franklin.  "Nature  is  our  friend  and 
ally.  The  Lord  has  prepared  our  defenses.  They  are 
the  sea,  the  mountains,  the  forest  and  the  character  of 


256     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

our  people.  Consider  what  you  have  accomplished.  At 
an  expense  of  eight  million  pounds,  you  have  killed 
about  eight  hundred  Yankees.  They  have  cost  you  ten 
thousand  pounds  a  head.  Meanwhile,  at  least  a  hun- 
dred thousand  children  have  been  born  in  America. 
There  are  the  factors  in  your  problem.  How  much 
time  and  money  will  be  required  for  the  job  of  killing 
all  of  us?" 

The  British  Admiral  ignored  the  query. 

"My  powers  are  limited,"  said  he,  ''but  I  am  author- 
ized to  grant  pardons  and  in  every  way  to  exercise  the 
King's  paternal  solicitude." 

"Such  an  offer  shows  that  your  proud  nation  has  no 
flattering  opinion  of  us,"  Franklin  answered.  "We, 
who  are  the  injured  parties,  have  not  the  baseness  to 
entertain  it.  You  will  forgive  me  for  reminding  you 
that  the  King's  paternal  solicitude  has  been  rather  try- 
ing. It  has  burned  our  defenseless  towns  in  mid-win- 
ter ;  it  has  incited  the  savages  to  massacre  our  farmers 
in  the  back  country;  it  has  driven  us  to  a  declaration 
of  independence.  Britain  and  America  are  now  dis- 
tinct states.  Peace  can  be  considered  only  on  that 
basis.  You  wish  to  prevent  our  trade  from  passing 
into  foreign  channels.  Let  me  remind  you,  also,  that 
the  profit  of  no  trade  can  ever  be  equal  to  the  expense 
of  holding  it  with  fleets  and  armies." 

"On  such  a  basis  I  am  not  empowered  to  treat  with 
you,"  Howe  answered.  "We  shall  immediately  move 
against  your  army." 


THE  GREAT  ALLY  257 

The  conference  ended.  The  ambassadors  and  their 
secretary  shook  hands  with  the  British  Admiral. 

"Mr.  Irons,  I  have  heard  much  of  you,"  said  the 
latter  as  he  held  Jack's  hand.  "You  are  deeply  at- 
tached to  a  young  lady  whom  I  admire  and  whose 
father  is  my  friend.  I  offer  you  a  chance  to  leave  this 
troubled  land  and  go  to  London  and  marry  and  lead 
a  peaceable,  Christian  life.  You  may  keep  your  prin- 
ciples, if  you  wish,  as  I  have  no  use  for  them.  You 
will  find  sympathizers  in  England." 

"Lord  Howe,  your  kindness  touches  me,"  the  young 
man  answered.  "What  you  propose  is  a  great  tempta- 
tion. It  is  like  Calypso's  offer  of  immortal  happiness 
to  Ulysses.  I  love  England.  I  love  peace,  and  more 
than  either,  I  love  the  young  lady,  but  I  couldn't  go 
and  keep  my  principles." 

"Why  not,  sir?" 

"Because  we  are  all  of  a  mind  with  our  Mr.  Patrick 
Henry.  We  put  Liberty  above  happiness  and  even 
above  life.  So  I  must  stay  and  help  fight  her  battles, 
and  when  I  say  it  I  am  grinding  my  own  heart  under 
my  heel.  Don't  think  harshly  of  me.  I  can  not  help 
it.  The  feeling  is  bred  in  my  bones." 

His  Lordship  smiled  politely  and  bowed  as  the  three 
men  withdrew. 

Franklin  took  the  hand  of  the  young  man  and 
pressed  it  silently  as  they  were  leaving  the  small  house 
in  which  Howe  had  established  himself. 

Jack,  who  had  been  taking  notes  of  the  fruitless  talk 


258     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

of  these  great  men,  was  sorely  disappointed.    He  could 
see  no  prospect  now  of  peace. 

"My  hopes  are  burned  to  the  ground,"  he  said  to 
Doctor  Franklin. 

"It  is  a  time  of  sacrifice,"  the  good  man  answered. 
"You  have  the  invincible  spirit  that  looks  into  the  fu- 
ture and  gives  all  it  has.  You  are  America." 

"I  have  been  thinking  too  much  of  myself,"  Jack 
answered.  "Now  I  am  ready  to  lay  down  my  life  in 
this  great  cause  of  ours." 

"Boy,  I  like  you,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "I  have  ar- 
ranged to  have  you  safely  conveyed  to  New  York. 
There  an  orderly  will  meet  and  conduct  you  to  our 
hi  adquarters." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Jack  replied.  Turning  to  Doctor 
Franklin,  he  added : 

"One  remark  of  yours  to  Lord  Howe  impressed  me. 
You  said  that  Nature  was  our  friend  and  ally.  It  put 
me  in  mind  of  the  fog  that  helped  us  out  of  Brooklyn 
and  of  a  little  adventure  of  mine." 

Then  he  told  the  story  of  the  spider's  web. 

"I  repeat  that  all  Nature  is  with  us,"  said  Franklin. 
"It  was  a  sense  of  injustice  in  human  nature  that  sent 
us  across  the  great  barrier  of  the  sea  into  conditions 
where  only  the  strong  could  survive.  Here  we  have 
raised  up  a  sturdy  people  with  three  thousand  miles  of 
water  between  them  and  tyranny.  Armies  can  not  cross 
it  and  succeed  long  in  a  hostile  land.  They  are  too  far 


THE  GREAT  ALLY 


from  home.  The  expense  of  transporting  and  main- 
taining them  will  bleed  our  enemies  until  they  are 
spent.  The  British  King  is  powerful,  but  now  he  has 
picked  a  quarrel  with  Almighty  God,  and  it  will  go 
hard  with  him." 


CHAPTER  XV11 

WITH  THE  ARMY  AND  IN  THE  BUSH 

IN  January,  1777,  Colonel  Irons  writes  to  his  father 
from  Morristown,  New  Jersey,  as  follows: 

"An  army  is  a  despotic  machine.  For  that  reason 
chiefly  our  men  do  not  like  military  service.  It  is  hard 
to  induce  them  to  enlist  for  long  terms.  They  are  re- 
leased by  expiration  long  before  they  have  been  trained 
and  seasoned  for  good  service.  So  Washington  has 
found  it  difficult  to  fill  his  line  with  men  of  respectable 
fighting  quality. 

"Our  great  Commander  lost  his  patience  on  the  eve 
of  our  leaving  New  York.  Our  troops,  posted  at  Kip's 
Bay  on  the  East  River  to  defend  the  landing,  fled  in  a 
panic  without  firing  a  gun  at  the  approach  of  Howe's 
army.  I  happened  to  be  in  a  company  of  Light  Horse 
with  General  Washington,  who  had  gone  up  to  survey 
the  ground.  Before  his  eyes  two  brigades  of  New 
England  troops  ran  away,  leaving  us  exposed  to  cap- 
ture. 

"The  great  Virginian  was  hot  with  indignation.  He 
threw  his  hat  to  the  ground  and  exclaimed : 

"  'Are  these  the  kind  of  men  with  whom  I  am  to 
defend  America?' 

"Next  day  our  troops  behaved  better  and  succeeded 
260 


WITH  THE  ARMY  AND  IN  THE  BUSH     261 

in  repulsing  the  enemy.  This  put  new  spirit  in  them. 
Putnam  got  his  forces  out  of  New  York  and  well  up 
*he  shore  of  the  North  River.  For  weeks  we  lay  be- 
hind our  trenches  on  Harlem  Heights,  building  up  the 
fighting  spirit  of  our  men  and  training  them  for  hard 
service.  The  stables,  cabins  and  sheds  of  Harlem  were 
full  of  our  sick.  Smallpox  had  got  among  them.  Cold 
weather  was  coming  on  and  few  were  clothed  to  stand 
it.  The  proclamation  of  Admiral  Lord  Howe  and  his 
brother,  the  General,  offering  pardon  and  protection 
to  all  who  remained  loyal  to  the  crown,  caused  some  to 
desert  us,  and  many  timid  settlers  in  the  outlying  coun- 
try, with  women  and  children  to  care  for,  were  on  the 
fence  ready  to  jump  either  way.  Hundreds  were 
driven  by  fear  toward  the  British. 

"In  danger  of  being  shut  in,  we  crossed  King's 
Bridge  and  retreated  to  White  Plains.  How  we  toiled 
with  our  baggage  on  that  journey,  many  of  us  being 
yoked  like  oxen  to  the  wagons!  Every  day  troops, 
whose  terms  of  enlistment  had  expired,  were  leaving 
us.  It  seemed  as  if  our  whole  flying  camp  would  soon 
be  gone.  But  there  were  many  like  Solomon  and  me 
who  were  willing  to  give  up  everything  for  the  cause 
and  follow  our  beloved  Commander  into  hell,  if  neces- 
sary. There  were  some  four  thousand  of  us  who 
streaked  up  the  Hudson  with  him  to  King's  Ferry,  at 
the  foot  of  the  Highlands,  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the 
British  ships.  There  we  crossed  into  Jersey  and 
dodged  about,  capturing  a  thousand  men  at  Trenton 


262     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

and  three  hundred  at  Princeton,  defeating  the  British 
regiments  who  pursued  us  and  killing  many  officers  and 
men  and  cutting  off  their  army  from  its  supplies.  We 
have  seized  a  goodly  number  of  cannon  and  valuable 
stores  and  reclaimed  New  Jersey  and  stiffened  the 
necks  of  our  people.  It  has  been,  I  think,  a  turning 
point  in  the  war.  Our  men  have  fought  like  Homeric 
heroes  and  endured  great  hardships  in  the  bitter  cold 
with  worn-out  shoes  and  inadequate  clothing.  A  num- 
ber have  been  frozen  to  death.  I  loaned  my  last  extra 
pair  of  shoes  to  a  poor  fellow  whose  feet  had  been 
badly  cut  and  frozen.  When  I  tell  you  that  coming 
into  Morristown  I  saw  many  bloody  footprints  in  the 
snow  behind  the  army,  you  will  understand.  We  are 
a  ragamuffin  .dand,  but  we  have  taught  the  British  to 
respect  us.  Send  all  the  shoes  and  clothing  you  can 
scare  up. 

"I  have  seen  incidents  which  have  increased  my  love 
of  Washington.  When  we  were  marching  through  a 
village  in  good  weather  there  was  a  great  crowd  in  the 
street.  In  the  midst  of  it  was  a  little  girl  crying  out 
because  she  could  not  see  Washington.  He  stopped 
and  called  for  her.  They  brought  the  child  and  he 
lifted  her  to  the  saddle  in  front  of  him  and  carriec 
her  a  little  way  on  his  big  white  horse. 

"At  the  first  divine  service  here  in  Morristown  he 
observed  an  elderly  woman,  a  rough  clad  farmer's  wife, 
standing  back  in  the  edge  of  the  crowd.  He  arose  and 
beckoned  to  her  to  come  and  take  his  seat.  She  did 


WITH  THE  ARMY  AND  IN  THE  BUSH     263 

so,  and  he  stood  through  the  service,  save  when  he 
was  kneeling.  Of  course,  many  offered  him  their  seats, 
but  he  refused  to  take  one. 

"We  have  been  deeply  impressed  and  inspirited  by 
the  address  of  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  Alexander 
Hamilton.  He  is  scarcely  twenty  years  of  age,  they 
tell  me,  but  he  has  wit  and  eloquence  and  a  maturity  of 
understanding  which  astonished  me.  He  is  slender,  a 
bit  under  middle  stature  and  has  a  handsome  face  and 
courtly  manners.  He  will  be  one  of  the  tallest  candles 
of  our  faith,  or  I  am  no  prophet. 

"Solomon  has  been  a  tower  of  strength  in  this  cam- 
paign. I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him  lead  the  charge 
when  brave  Mercer  fell  and  bring  in  a  British  general, 
whom  he  had  wounded.  He  and  I  are  scouting  around 
the  camp  every  day.  Our  men  are  billeted  up  and 
down  the  highways  and  living  in  small  huts  around 
headquarters." 

Washington  had  begun  to  show  -his  great  and  sin- 
gular gifts.  One  of  them,  through  which  he  secured 
rest  and  safety  for  his  shattered  forces,  shone  out  there 
in  Morristown.  There  were  only  about  three  thou- 
sand effective  men  in  his  army.  To  conceal  their  num- 
ber, he  had  sent  them  to  many  houses  on  the  roads 
leading  into  the  village.  The  British  in  New  York 
numbered  at  least  nine  thousand  well  seasoned  troops, 
and  with  good  reason  he  feared  an  attack.  The  force 
at  Morristown  was  in  great  danger.  One  day  a  New 
York  merchant  was  brought  into  camp  by  the  famous 


264     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

scout  Solomon  Binkus.  The  merchant  had  been  mis- 
treated by  the  British.  He  had  sold  his  business  and 
crossed  the  river  by  night  and  come  through  the  lines 
on  the  wagon  of  a  farmer  friend  who  was  bringing 
supplies  to  the  American  army.  He  gave  much  in- 
formation as  to  plans  and  positions  of  the  British, 
which  was  known  to  be  correct.  He  wished  to  enlist 
in  the  American  army  and  do  what  he  could  to  help  it. 
He  was  put  to  work  in  the  ranks.  A  few  days  later 
the  farmer  with  whom  he  had  arrived  came  again  and, 
after  selling  his  wagon  load,  found  the  ex-merchant 
and  conferred  with  him  in  private.  That  evening, 
when  the  farmer  had  got  a  mile  or  so  from  camp,  he 
was  stopped  and  searched  by  Colonel  Irons.  A  letter 
was  found  in  the  farmer's  pocket  which  clearly  indi- 
cated that  the  ex-merchant  was  a  spy  and  the  farmer 
a  Tory.  Irons  went  at  once  to  General  Washington 
with  his  report,  urging  that  the  spy  be  taken  up  and 
put  in  confinement. 

The  General  sat  thoughtfully  looking  into  the  fire, 
but  made  no  answer. 

"He  is  here  to  count  our  men  and  report  our  weak- 
ness," said  the  Colonel. 

"The  poor  fellow  has  not  found  it  an  easy  thing  to 
do,"  the  General  answered.  "I  shall  see  that  he  gets 
"help." 

They  went  together  to  the  house  where  the  Adjutant 
General  had  his  home  and  office.  To  this  officer  Wash- 
ington said: 


WITH  THE  ARMY  AND  IN  THE  BUSH     265 

"General,  you  have  seen  a  report  from  one  Weath- 
erly,  a  New  York  merchant,  who  came  with  informa- 
tion from  that  city.  Will  you  kindly  do  him  the  honor 
of  asking  him  to  dine  with  you  here  alone  to-morrow 
evening?  Question  him  as  to  the  situation  in  New 
York  in  a  friendly  manner  and  impart  to  him  such 
items  of  misinformation  as  you  may  care  to  give,  but 
mainly  look  to  this.  Begin  immediately  to  get  signed 
returns  from  the  brigadiers  showing  that  we  have  an 
effective  force  here  of  twelve  thousand  men.  These 
reports  must  be  lying  on  your  desk  while  you  are  con- 
ferring with  Weatherly.  Treat  the  man  with  good 
food  and  marked  politeness  and  appreciation  of  the 
service  he  is  likely  to  render  us.  Soon  after  you  have 
eaten,  I  shall  send  an  orderly  here.  He  will  deliver  a 
message.  You  will  ask  the  man  to  make  himself  at 
home  while  you  are  gone  for  half  an  hour  or  so.  You 
will  see  that  the  window  shades  are  drawn  and  the 
door  closed  and  that  no  one  disturbs  the  man  while  he 
is  copying  those  returns,  which  he  will  be  sure  to  do. 
Colonel  Irons,  I  depend  upon  you  to  see  to  it  that  he 
has  an  opportunity  to  escape  safely  with  his  budget. 
I  warn  you  not  to  let  him  fail.  It  is  most  important." 

The  next  morning,  Weatherly  was  ordered  to  report 
to  Major  Binkus  for  training  in  scout  duty,  and  the 
morning  after  that  he  was  taken  out  through  the  lines, 
mounted,  with  Colonel  Irons  and  carefully  lost  in  the 
pine  bush.  He  was  seen  no  more  in  the  American 
camp.  The  spy  delivered  his  report  to  the  British  and 


266     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

the  little  remnant  of  an  army  at  Morristown  was  safe 
for  the  winter.  Cornwallis  and  Howe  put  such  confi- 
dence in  this  report  that  when  Luce,  another  spy,  came 
into  their  camp  with  a  count  of  Washington's  forces, 
which  was  substantially  correct,  they  doubted  the  good 
faith  of  the  man  and  threw  him  into  prison. 

So  the  great  Virginian  had  turned  a  British  spy 
into  one  of  his  most  effective  helpers. 

Meanwhile  good  news  had  encouraged  enlistment 
for  long  terms.  Four  regiments  of  horse  were  put  in 
training,  ten  frigates  were  built  and  sent  to  sea  and 
more  were  under  construction.  The  whole  fighting 
force  of  America  was  being  reorganized.  Morecver, 
in  this  first  year  the  Yankee  privateers  had  so  wounded 
a  leg  of  the  British  lion  that  he  was  roaring  with  rage. 
Three  hundred  and  fifty  of  his  ships,  well  laden  from 
the  West  Indies,  had  been  seized.  Their  cargoes  vrere 
valued  at  a  million  pounds.  The  fighting  spirit  of 
America  was  encouraged  also  by  events  in  France, 
where  Franklin  and  Silas  Deane  were  now  at  work. 
France  had  become  an  ally.  A  loan  of  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars  had  been  secured  in  the  French  capital 
and  expert  officers  from  that  country  had  begun  to 
arrive  to  join  the  army  of  Washington. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HOW   SOLOMON   SHIFTED  THE  SKEER 

IN  THE  spring  news  came  of  a  great  force  of  British 
which  was  being  organized  in  Canada  for  a  descent 
upon  New  York  through  Lake  Champlain.  Frontier 
settlers  in  Tryon  County  were  being  massacred  b> 
Indians. 

Generals  Herkimer  and  Schuyler  had  written  to 
Washington,  asking  for  the  services  of  the  famous 
scout,  Solomon  Binkus,  in  that  region. 

"He  knows  the  Indian  as  no  other  man  knows  him 
and  can  speak  his  language  and  he  also  knows  the 
bush,"  Schuyler  had  written.  "If  there  is  any  place 
on  earth  where  his  help  is  needed  just  now,  it  is  here." 

"Got  to  leave  ye,  my  son,"  Solomon  said  to  Jack  one 
evening  soon  after  that. 

"How  so  ?"  the  young  man  asked. 

"Goin'  hum  to  fight  Injuns.  The  Great  Father  has 
ordered  it.  I'll  like  it  better.  Gittin'  lazy  here.  Sum- 
mer's comin'  an'  I'm  a  born  bush  man.  I'm  kind  o' 
oneasy — like  a  deer  in  a  dooryard.  I  ain't  had  to  run 
fer  my  life  since  we  got  here.  My  hoofs  are  com- 
plainin'.  1  ain't  shot  a  gun  in  a  month." 

A  look  of  sorrow  spread  over  the  face  of  Solomon. 

"I'm  tired  of  this  place,"  said  Jack.  "The  British 
are  scared  of  us  and  we're  scared  of  the  British. 

267 


268     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

There's  nothing  going  on.    I'd  love  to  go  back  to  the 
big  bush  with  you." 

'Til  tell  the  Great  Father  that  you're  a  born  bush 
man.  Mebbe  he'll  let  ye  go.  They'll  need  us  both. 
Rum,  Injuns  an'  the  devil  have  j'ined  hands.  The 
Long  House  will  be  the  center  o'  hell  an'  its  line 
fences  '11  take  in  the  hull  big  bush." 

That  day  Jack's  name  was  included  in  the  order. 

"I  am  sorry  that  it  is  not  yet  possible  to  pay  you  or 
any  of  the  men  who  have  served  me  so  faithfully,"  said 
Washington.  "If  you  need  money  I  shall  be  glad  to 
lend  you  a  sum  to  help  you  through  this  journey." 

"I  ain't  fightin'  fer  pay,"  Solomon  answered.  "I'll 
hoe  an'  dig,  an'  cook,  an'  guide  fer  money.  But  I 
won't  fight  no  more  fer  money — partly  'cause  I  don't 
need  it — partly  'cause  I'm  fightin'  fer  myself.  I  got 
a  little  left  in  my  britches  pocket,  but  if  I  hadn't,  my 
olj  Marier  wouldn't  let  me  go  hungry." 

2 

In  April  the  two  friends  set  out  afoot  for  the  lower 
end  of  the  Highlands.  On  the  river  they  hired  a 
Dutch  farmer  to  take  them  on  to  Albany  in  his  sloop. 
After  two  delightful  days  at  home,  General  Schuyler 
suggested  that  they  could  do  a  great  service  by  travers- 
ing the  wilderness  to  the  valley  of  the  great  river  of  the 
north,  as  far  as  possible  toward  Swegachie,  and  report- 
ing their  observations  to  Crown  Point  or  Fort  Edward, 
if  there  seemed  to  be  occasion  for  it,  and  if  not,  they 
were  to  proceed  to  General  Herkimer's  camp  at  Oris- 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     269 

kany  and  give  him  what  help  they  could  in  protecting 
the  settlers  in  the  west. 

"You  would  need  to  take  all  your  wit  and  courage 
with  you,"  the  General  warned  them.  "The  Indians 
are  in  bad  temper.  They  have  taken  to  roasting  their 
prisoners  at  the  stake  and  eating  their  flesh.  This  is  a 
hazardous  undertaking.  Therefore,  I  give  you  a  sug- 
gestion and  not  an  order/' 

"I'll  go  'lone/'  said  Solomon.  "If  I  get  et  up  it 
needn't  break  nobody's  heart.  Let  Jack  go  to  one  o' 
the  forts." 

"No,  I'd  rather  go  into  the  bush  with  you,"  said 
Jack.  "We're  both  needed  there.  If  necessary  we 
could  separate  and  carry  our  warning  in  two  direc- 
tions. We'll  take  a  couple  of  the  new  double-barreled 
rifles  and  four  pistols.  If  we  had  to,  I. think  we  could 
fight  a  hole  through  any  trouble  we  are  likely  to 
have." 

So  it  was  decided  that  they  should  go  together  on 
this  scouting  .trip  into  the  north  bush.  Solomon  had 
long  before  that  invented  what  he  called  "a  lightnin' 
thrower"  for  close  fighting  with  Indians,  to  be  used 
if  one  were  hard  pressed  and  outnumbered  and  likely 
to  have  his  scalp  taken.  This  odd  contrivance  he  had 
never  had  occasion  to  use.  It  was  a  thin,  round  shell 
of  cast  iron  with  a  tube,  a  flint  and  plunger.  The  shell 
was  of  about  the  size  of  a  large  apple.  It  was  to  be 
filled  with  missiles  and  gunpowder.  The  plunger,  with 
its  spring,  was  set  vertically  above  the  tube.  In  throw- 


270     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

ing  this  contrivance  one  released  its  spring  by  the  pres- 
sure of  his  thumb.  The  hammer  fell  and  the  spark  it 
made  ignited  a  fuse  leading  down  to  the  powder.  Its 
owner  had  to  throw  it  from  behind  a  tree  or  have  a 
share  in  the  peril  it  was  sure  to  create. 

While  Jack  was  at  home  with  his  people  Solomon 
spent  a  week  in  the  foundry  and  forge  and,  before  they 
set  out  on  their  journey,  had  three  of  these  unique 
weapons,  all  loaded  and  packed  in  water-proof  wrap- 
pings. 

About  the  middle  of  May  they  proceeded  in  a  light 
bark  canoe  to  Fort  Edward  and  carried  it  across  coun- 
try to  Lake  George  and  made  their  way  with  paddles 
to  Ticonderoga.  There  they  learned  that  scouts  were 
operating  only  on  and  near  Lake  Champlain.  The  in- 
terior of  Try  on  County  was  said  to  be  dangerous 
ground.  Mohawks,  Cagnawagas,  Senecas,  Algonquins 
and  Hurons  were  thick  in  the  bush  and  all  on  the  war- 
path. They  were  torturing  and  eating  every  white 
man  that  fell  in  their  hands,  save  those  with  a  Tory 
mark  on  them. 

"We're  skeered  o'  the  bush,"  said  an  elderly  bearded 
soldier,  who  was  sitting  on  a  log.  "A  man  who  goes 
into  the  wildwood  needs  to  be  a  good  friend  o'  God." 

"But  Schuyler  thinks  a  force  of  British  may  land 
somewhere  along  the  big  river  and  come  down  through 
the  bush,  building  a  road  as  they  advance,"  said  Jack. 

"A  thousand  men  could  make  a  tollable  waggin  road 
to  Fort  Edward  in  a  month,"  Solomon  declared. 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     271 

"That's  mebbe  the  reason  the  Injuns  are  out  in  the 
bush  eatin'  Yankees.  They're  tryin'  fer  to  skeer  us 
an'  keep  us  erway.  By  the  hide  an'  horns  o'  the  devil ! 
We  got  to  know  what's  a-goin'  on  out  thar.  You  fel- 
lers are  a-settin'  eround  these  'ere  forts  as  if  ye  had 
nothin'  to  do  but  chaw  beef  steak  an'  wipe  yer  rifles 
an'  pick  yer  teeth.  Why  don't  ye  go  out  thar  in  the 
bush  and  do  a  little  skeerin'  yerselves  ?  Ye're  like  a  lot 
o'  ol'  women  settin'  by  the  fire  an'  tellin'  ghos'  stories." 

"We  got  'nuff  to  do  considerin'  the  pay  we  git," 
said  a  sergeant. 

"Hell  an'  Tophet !  What  do  ye  want  o'  pay?"  Solo- 
mon answered.  "Ain't  ye  willin'  to  fight  fer  yer  own 
liberty  without  bein*  paid  fer  it?  Ye  been  kicked  an' 
robbed  an'  spit  on,  an'  dragged  eround  by  the  heels, 
an'  ye  don't  want  to  fight  'less  somebody  pays  ye. 
What  a  dam'  corn  fiddle  o'  a  man  ye  mus'  be !" 

Solomon  was  putting  fresh  provisions  in  his  pack 
as  he  talked. 

"All  the  Injuns  o'  Kinady  an'  the  great  grass  lands 
may  be  snookin'  down  through  the  bush.  We're  bound 
fer  t'  know  what's  a-goin'  on  out  thar.  We're  liable 
to  be  skeered,  but  also  an'  likewise  we'll  do  some 
skeerin'  'fore  we  give  up — you  hear  to  me." 

Jack  and  Solomon  set  out  in  the  bush  that  afternoon 
and  before  night  fell  were  up  on  the  mountain  slantb 
north  of  the  Glassy  Water,  as  Lake  George  was  often 
called  those  days.  But  for  Solomon's  caution  an  evil 
fate  had  perhaps  come  to  them  before  their  first  sleep 


272     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

on  the  journey.  The  new  leaves  were  just  out,  but  not 
quite  full.  The  little  maples  and  beeches  flung  their 
sprays  of  vivid  green  foliage  above  the  darker  shades 
of  the  witch  hopple  into  the  soft-lighted  air  of  the 
great  house  of  the  wood  and  filled  it  with  a  pleasant 
odor.  A  mile  or  so  back,  Solomon  had  left  the  trail 
and  cautioned  Jack  to  keep  close  and  step  softly.  Soon 
the  old  scout  stopped  and  listened  and  put  his  ear  to 
the  ground.  He  rose  and  beckoned  to  Jack  and  the 
two  turned  aside  and  made  their  way  stealthily  up  the 
slant  of  a  ledge.  In  the  edge  of  a  little  thicket  on  a 
mossy  rock  shelf  they  sat  down.  Solomon  looked 
serious.  There  were  deep  furrows  in  the  skin  above 
his  brow. 

When  he  was  excited  in  the  bush  he  had  the  habit 
of  swallowing  and  the  process  made  a  small,  creaky 
sound  in  his  throat.  This  Jack  observed  then  and  at 
other  times.  Solomon  was  peering  down  through  the 
bushes  toward  the  west,  now  and  then  moving  his  head 
a  little.  Jack  looked  in  the  same  direction  and  pres- 
ently saw  a  move  in  the  bushes  below,  but  nothing 
more.  After  a  few  minutes  Solomon  turned  and 
whispered : 

"Four  Injun  braves  jist  went  by.  Mebbe  they're 
scoutin'  fer  a  big  band — mebbe  not.  If  so,  the  crowd 
is  up  the  trail.  If  they're  comin'  by,  it'll  be  'fore  dark. 
We'll  stop  in  this  'ere  tavern.  They's  a  cave  on  t'other 
side  o'  the  ledge  as  big  as  a  small  house." 

They  watched  until  the  sun  had  set.     Then  Solomon 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     273 

led  Jack  to  the  cave,  in  which  their  packs  were  de- 
posited. 

From  the  cave's  entrance  they  looked  upon  the  un- 
dulating green  roof  of  the  forest  dipping  down  into  a 
deep  valley,  cut  by  the  smooth  surface  of  a  broad  river 
with  mirrored  shores,  and  lifting  to  the  summit  of  a 
distant  mountain  range.  Its  blue  peaks  rose  into  the 
glow  of  the  sunset. 

"Yonder  is  the  great  stairway  of  Heaven !"  Jack 
exclaimed. 

'"I've  put  up  in  this  'ere  ol'  tavern  many  a  night," 
said  Solomon.    "Do  ye  see  its  sign?" 

He  pointed  to  a  great  dead  pine  that  stood  a  little 
below  it,  towering  with  stark,  outreaching  limbs  more 
than  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  into  the  air. 

"I  call  it  The  Dead  Pine  Tavern,"  Solomon  re- 
marked. 

"On  the  road  to  Paradise,"  said  Jack  as  he  gazed 
down  the  valley,  his  hands  shading  his  eyes. 

"Wisht  we  could  have  a  nice  hot  supper,  but  't  won't 
do  to  build  no  fire.  Nothin'  but  cold  vittles!  I'll  go 
down  with  the  pot  to  a  spring  an*  git  some  water.  You 
dig  fer  our  supper  in  that  pack  o'  mine  an'  spread  it 
out  here.  I'm  hungry." 

They  ate  their  bread  and  dried  meat  moistened  with 
spring  water,  picked  some  balsam  boughs  and  covered 
a  corner  of  the  mossy  floor  with  them.  When  the  rock 
chamber  was  filled  with  their  fragrance,  Jack  said : 

"If  my  dream  comes  true  and  Margaret  and  I  are 


274     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

married,  I  shall  bring  her  here.     I  want  her  to  see 
The  Dead  Pine  Tavern  and  its  outlook." 

"Ayes,  sir,  when  ye're  married  safe,"  Solomon  an- 
swered. "We'll  come  up  here  fust  summer  an'  fish,  an' 
hunt,  an'  I'll  run  the  tavern  an'  do  the  cookin'  an' 
sweep  the  floor  an'  make  the  beds!" 

"I'm  a  little  discouraged,"  said  Jack.  "This  war 
may  last  for  years." 

"Keep  up  on  high  ground  er  ye'll  git  mired  down," 
Solomon  answered.  "Ain't  nuther  on  ye  very  old  yit, 
an'  fust  ye  know  these  troubles  '11  be  over  an'  done." 

Jack  awoke  at  daylight  and  found  that  he  was  alone. 
Solomon  returned  in  half  an  hour  or  so. 

"Been  scoutin'  up  the  trail,"  he  said.    "Didn't  see  a 
thing  but  an  ol'  gnaw  bucket.    We'll  jest  eat  a  bite  an' 
p'int  off  to  the  nor'west  an'  keep  watch  o'  this  'ere  trail. 
They's  Injuns  over  thar  on  the  slants.     We  got  to 
know  how  they  look  an'  'bout  how  many  head  they  is." 
They  went  on,  keeping  well  away  from  the  trail. 
"We'll  have  to  watch  it  with  our  ears,"  said  Solo- 
mon in  a  whisper. 

His  ear  was  often  on  the  ground  that  morning  and 
twice  he  left  Jack  to  "snook"  out  to  the  trail  and  look 
for  tracks.  Solomon  could  imitate  the  call  of  the 
swamp  robin,  and  when  they  were  separated  in  the 
bush,  he  gave  it  so  that  his  friend  could  locate  him.  At 
midday  they  sat  down  in  deep  shade  by  the  side  of  a 
brook  and  ate  their  luncheon. 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     275 

'This  'ere  is  Peppermint  Brook,"  said  Solomon. 
"It's  'nother  one  o'  my  taverns." 

"Our  food  isn't  going  to  last  long  at  the  rate  we  are 
eating  it,"  Jack  remarked.  "If  we  can't  shoot  a  gun 
what  are  we  going  to  do  when  it's  all  gone  ?" 

"Don't  worry,"  Solomon  answered.  "Ye're  in  my 
kentry  now  an'  there's  a  better  tavern  up  in  the  high 
trail." 

They  fared  along,  favored  by  good  weather,  and 
spent  that  night  on  the  shore  of  a  little  pond  not  more 
than  fifty  paces  off  the  old  blazed  thoroughfare.  Next 
day,  about  "half-way  from  dawn  to  dark,"  as  Solomon 
was  wont,  now  and  then,  to  speak  of  the  noon  hour, 
they  came  suddenly  upon  fresh  "sign."  It  was  where 
the  big  north  trail  from  the  upper  waters  of  the  Mo- 
hawk joined  the  one  near  which  they  had  been  travel- 
ing. When  they  were  approaching  the  point  Solomon 
had  left  Jack  in  a  thicket  and  cautiously  crept  out  to 
the  "juncshin."  There  was  half  an  hour  of  silence 
before  the  old  scout  came  back  in  sight  and  beckoned 
to  Jack.  His  face  had  never  looked  more  serious.  The 
young  man  approached  him.  Solomon  swallowed — a 
part  of  the  effort  to  restrain  his  emotions. 

"Want  to  show  ye  suthin',"  he  whispered. 

The  two  went  cautiously  toward  the  trail.  When 
they  reached  it  the  old  scout  led  the  way  to  soft  ground 
near  a  brook.  Then  he  pointed  down  at  the  mud. 
There  were  many  footprints,  newly  made,  and  among 


276     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

them  the  print  of  that  wooden  peg  with  an  iron  ring 
around  its  bottom,  which  they  had  seen  twice  before, 
and  which  was  associated  with  the  blackest  memories 
they  knew.  For  some  time  Solomon  studied  the  sur- 
face of  the  trail  in  silence. 

"More'n  twenty  Injuns,  two  captives,  a  pair  o' 
bosses,  a  cow  an'  the  devil,"  he  whispered  to  Jack. 
"Been  a  raid  down  to  the  Mohawk  Valley.  The  cow 
an'  the  bosses  are  loaded  with  plunder.  I've  noticed 
that  when  the  Injuns  go  out  to  rob  an'  kill  folks  ye 
rind,  'mong  their  tracks,  the  print  o'  that  'ere  iron  ring. 
I  seen  it  twice  in  the  Ohio  kentry.  Here  is  the  heart 
o'  the  devil  an'  his  fire-water.  Red  Snout  has  got  to 
be  started  on  a  new  trail.  His  ol'  peg  leg  is  goin'  down 
to  the  gate  o'  hell  to-night." 

Solomon's  face  had  darkened  with  anger.  There 
were  deep  furrows  across  his  brow. 

Standing  before  Jack-  about  three  feet  away,  he 
drew  out  his  ram  rod  and  tossed  it  to  the  young  man, 
who  caught  it  a  little  above  the  middle.  Jack  knew  the 
meaning  of  this.  They  were  to  put  their  hands  upon 
the  ram  rod,  one  above  the  other.  The  last  hand  it 
would  hold  was  to  do  the  killing.  It  was  Solomon's. 

"Thank  God !"  he  whispered,  as  his  face  brightened. 

He  seemed  to  be  taking  careful  aim  with  his  right 
eye. 

"It's  my  job,"  said  he.  "I  wouldn't  'a'  let  ye  do  it  if 
ye'd  drawed  the  chanst.  It's  my  job — proper.  They 
ain't  an  hour  ahead.  Mebbe — it's  jest  possible— he 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     277 

may  go  to  sleep  to-night  'fore  I  do,  an'  I  wouldn't  be 
supprised.  They'll  build  their  fire  at  the  Caverns  on 
Rock  Crick  an'  roast  a  captive.  We'll  cross  the  bush 
an'  come  up  on  t'  other  side  an'  see  what's  goin'  on." 

They  crossed  a  high  ridge,  with  Solomon  tossing 
his  feet  in  that  long,  loose  stride  of  his,  and  went  down 
the  slope  into  a  broad  valley.  The  sun  sank  low  and 
the  immeasurable  green  roofed  house  of  the  wild  was 
dim  and  dusk  when  the  old  scout  halted.  Ahead  in  the 
distance  they  had  heard  voices  and  the  neighing  of  a 
horse. 

"My  son,"  said  Solomon  as  he  pointed  with  his  fin- 
ger, "do  you  see  the  brow  o'  the  hill  yonder  whar  the 
black  thickets  be?" 

Jack  nodded. 

"If  ye  hear  to  me  ye'll  stay  this  side.  This  'ere 
business  is  kind  o'  neevarious.  I'm  a-goin'  clus  up. 
If  I  come  back  ye'll  hear  the-  call  o'  the  bush  owl.  If 
I  don't  come  'fore  mornin'  you  p'int  fer  hum  an'  the 
good  God  go  with  ye." 

"I  shall  go  as  far  as  you  go,"  Jack  answered. 

Solomon  spoke  sternly.  The  genial  tone  of  good 
comradeship  had  left  him. 

"Ye  kin  go,  but  ye  ain't  obleeged,"  said  he.  "Bear 
in  mind,  boy.  To-night  I'm  the  Cap'n.  Do  as  I  tell  ye 
— exact." 

He  took  the  lightning  hurlers  out  of  the  packs  and 
unwrapped  them  and  tried  the  springs  above  the  ham- 
mers. Earlier  in  the  day  he  had  looked  to  the  priming. 


278     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Solomon  gave  one  to  Jack  and  put  the  other  two  in  his 
pockets.  Each  examined  his  pistols  and  adjusted  them 
in  his  belt.  They  started  for  the  low  lying  ridge  above 
the  little  valley  of  Rock  Creek.  It  was  now  quite  dark 
and  looking  down  through  the  thickets  of  hemlock  they 
could  see  the  firelight  of  the  Indians  and  hear  the  wash 
of  the  creek  water.  Suddenly  a  wild  whooping  among 
the  red  men,  savage  as  the  howl  of  wolves  on  the  trail 
of  a  wounded  bison,  ran  beyond  them,  far  out  into  the 
forest,  and  sent  its  echoes  traveling  from  hilltop  to 
mountain  side.  Then  came  a  sound  which  no  man  may 
hear  without  getting,  as  Solomon  was  wont  to  say,  "a 
scar  on  his  soul  which  he  will  carry  beyond  the  last 
cape."  It  was  the  death  cry  of  a  captive.  Solomon 
had  heard  it  before.  He  knew  what  it  meant.  The 
fire  was  taking  hold  and  the  smoke  had  begun  to 
smother  him.  Those  cries  were  like  the  stabbing  of  a 
knife  and  the  recollection  of  them  like  blood-stains. 

They  hurried  down  the  slant,  brushing  through  the 
thicket,  the  sound  of  their  approach  being  covered  by 
the  appalling  cries  of  the  victim  and  the  demon-like 
tumult  of  the  drunken  braves.  The  two  scouts  were 
racked  with  soul  pain  as  they  went  on  so  that  they 
could  scarcely  hold  their  peace  and  keep  their  feet  from 
running.  A  new  sense  of  the  capacity  for  evil  in  the 
heart  of  man  entered  the  mind  of  Jack.  They  had 
come  close  to  the  frightful  scene,  when  suddenly  a 
deep  silence  fell  upon  it.  Thank  God,  the  victim  had 
gone  beyond  the  reach  of  pain.  Something  had  har> 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     279 

pened  in  his  passing — perhaps  the  savages  had  thought 
it  a  sign  from  Heaven.  For  a  moment  their  clamor 
had  ceased.  The  two  scouts  could  plainly  see  the  poor 
man  behind  a  red  veil  of  flame.  Suddenly  the  white 
leader  of  the  raiders  approached  the  pyre,  limping  on 
his  wooden  stump,  with  a  stick  in  his  hand,  and 
prodded  the  face  of  the  victim.  It  was  his  last  act. 
Solomon  was  taking  aim.  His  rifle  spoke.  Red  Snout 
tumbled  forward  into  the  fire.  Then  what  a  scurry 
among  the  Indians!  They  vanished  and  so  suddenly 
that  Jack  wondered  where  they  had  gone.  Solomon 
stood  reloading  the  rifle  barrel  he  had  just  emptied. 
Then  he  said : 

"Come  on  an'  do  as  I  do." 

Solomon  ran  until  they  had  come  near.  Then  he 
jumped  from  tree  to  tree,  stopping  at  each  long  enough 
to  survey  the  ground  beyond  it.  This  was  what  he 
called  "swapping  cover."  From  behind  a  tree  near 
the  fire  he  shouted  in  the  Indian  tongue : 

"Red  men,  you  have  made  the  Great  Spirit  angry. 
He  has  sent  the  Son  of  the  Thunder  to  slay  you  with 
his  lightning." 

No  truer  words  had  ever  left  the  lips  of  man.  His 
hand  rose  and  swung  back  of  his  shoulder  and  shot 
forward.  The  round  missile  sailed  through  the  fire- 
light and  beyond  it  and  sank  into  black  shadows  in  the 
great  cavern  at  Rocky  Creek — a  famous  camping-place 
in  the  old  time.  Then  a  flash  of  white  light  and  a  roar 
that  shook  the  hills!  A  blast  of  gravel  and  dust  and 


280     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

debris  shot  upward  and  pelted  down  upon  the  earth. 
Bits  of  rock  and  wood  and  an  Indian's  arm  and  foot 
fell  in  the  firelight.  A  number  of  dusky  figures  scur- 
ried out  of  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  and  ran  for  their 
lives  shouting  prayers  to  Manitou  as  they  disappeared 
in  the  darkness.  Solomon  pulled  the  embers  from 
around  the  feet  of  the  victim. 

"Now,  by  the  good  God  A'mighty,  'pears  to  me  we 
got  the  skeer  shifted  so  the  red  man'll  be  the  rabbit 
fer  a  while  an'  I  wouldn't  wonder,"  said  Solomon,  as 
he  stood  looking  down  at  the  scene.  "He  ain't  a-goin' 
to  like  the  look  o'  a  pale  face — not  overly  much.  Them 
Injuns  that  got  erway  '11  never  stop  runnin'  till  they've 
reached  the  middle  o'  next  week." 

He  seized  the  foot  of  Red  Snout  and  pulled  his  head 
out  of  the  fire. 

"You  ol'  hellion!"  Solomon  exclaimed.  "You  dog 
o'  the  devil!  Tumbled  into  hell  whar  ye  b'long  at 
last,  didn't  ye?  Jack,  you  take  that  luther  bucket  an' 
bring  some  water  out  o'  the  creek  an'  put  out  this  fire. 
The  ring  on  this  'ere  ol'  wooden  leg  is  wuth  a  hundred 
pounds." 

Solomon  took  the  hatchet  from  his  belt  and  hacked 
off  the  end  of  Red  Snout's  wooden  leg  and  put  it  in 
his  coat  pocket,  saying: 

"From  now  on  a  white  man  can  walk  in  the  bush 
without  gittin'  his  bones  picked.  Injuns  is  goin'  to 
be  skeered  o'  us — a  few  an'  I  wouldn't  be  supprised." 

When  Jack  came  back  with  the  water,   Solomon 


HOW  SOLOMON  SHIFTED  THE  SKEER     281 

poured  it  on  the  embers  and  looked  at  the  swollen 
form  which  still  seemed  to  be  straining  at  the  green 
withes  of  moose  wrood. 

"Nothin'  kin  be  done  fer  him,"  said  the  eld  scout. 
"He's  gone  erway.  I  tell  ye,  Jack,  it  g'in  my  soul  a 
sweat  to  hear  him  dyin'." 

A  moment  of  silence  full  of  the  sorrow  of  the  two 
men  followed.  Solomon  broke  it  by  saying: 

'''That  'ere  black  pill  o'  mine  went  right  down  into 
the  stummick  o'  the  hill  an'  give  it  quite  a  puke — you 
hear  to  me." 

They  went  to  the  cavern's  mouth  and  looked  in. 

"They's  an  awful  mess  in  thar.  I  don't  keer  to  see 
it,"  said  Solomon. 

Near  them  they  discovered  a  warrior  who  had 
crawled  out  of  that  death  chamber  in  the  rocks.  He 
had  been  stunned  and  wounded  about  the  shoulders. 
They  helped  him  to  his  feet  and  led  him  away.  He 
was  trembling  with  fear.  Solomon  found  a  pine  torch, 
still  burning,  near  where  the  fire  had  been.  By  its 
light  they  dressed  his  /ounds — the  old  scout  having 
with  him  always  a  small  surgeon's  outfit. 

"Whar  is  t'  other  captive?"  he  asked  in  the  Indian 
tongue. 

"About  a  mile  down  the  trail.  It's  a  woman  and  a 
boy,"  said  the  warrior. 

"Take  us  whar  they  be,"  Solomon  commanded. 

The  three  started  slowly  down  the  trail,  the  warrior 
leading  them. 


282     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Son  of  the  Thunder,  throw  no  more  lightning  and 
I  will  kiss  your  mighty  hand  and  do  as  you  tell  me," 
said  the  Indian,  as  they  set  out. 

It  was  now  dark.  Jack  saw,  through  the  opening  in 
the  forest  roof  above  the  trail,  Orion  and  the  Pleiades 
looking  down  at  them,  as  beautiful  as  ever,  and  now 
he  could  hear  the  brook  singing  merrily. 

"I  could  have  chided  the  stars  and  the  brook  while 
the  Indian  arid  I  were  waiting  for  Solomon  to  bring 
the  packs,"  he  wrote  in  his  diary. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    VOICE    OF    A    WOMAN    SOBBING 

OVER  the  ridge  and  more  than  a  mile  away  was  a 
wet,  wild  meadow.  They  found  the  cow  and  horses 
feeding  on  its  edge  near  the  trail.  The  moon,  clouded 
since  dark,  had  come  out  in  the  clear  mid-heavens  and 
thrown  its  light  into  the  high  windows  of  the  forest 
above  the  ancient  thoroughfare  of  the  Indian.  The 
red  guide  of  the  two  scouts  gave  a  call  which  was 
quickly  answered.  A  few  rods  farther  on,  they  saw 
a  pair  of  old  Indians  sitting  in  blankets  near  a  thicket 
of  black  timber.  They  could  hear  the  voice  of  a 
woman  sobbing  near  where  they  stood. 

"Womern,  don't  be  skeered  o'  us — we're  friends — 
we're  goin'  to  take  ye  hum,"  said  Solomon. 

The  woman  came  out  of  the  thicket  with  a  little  lad 
of  four  asleep  in  her  arms. 

"Where  do  ye  live?"  Solomon  asked. 

"Far  south  on  the  shore  o'  the  Mohawk,"  she  an- 
swered in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion. 

"What's  yer  name?" 

"I'm  Bill  Scott's  wife,"  she  answered. 

"Cat's  blood  and  gunpowder!"  Solomon  exclaimed. 
"I'm  Sol  Binkus." 

She  knelt  before  the  old  scout  and  kissed  his  knees 

283 


284     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

and  could  not  speak  for  the  fulness  of  her  heart 
Solomon  bent  over  and  took  the  sleeping  lad  from  her 
arms  and  held  him  against  his  breast. 

"Don't  feel  bad.  We're  a-goin'  to  take  keer  o'  you," 
said  Solomon.  " Ayes,  sir,  we  be !  They  ain't  nobody 
goin'  to  harm  ye — nobody  at  all." 

There  was  a  note  of  tenderness  in  the  voice  of  the 
man  as  he  felt  the  chin  of  the  little  lad  with  his  big 
thumb  and  finger. 

"Do  ye  know  what  they  done  with  Bill?"  the 
woman  asked  soon  in  a  pleading  voice. 

The  scout  swallowed  as  his  brain  began  to  work  on 
the  problem  in  hand. 

"Bill  broke  loose  an'  got  erway.  He's  gone,"  Solo- 
mon answered  in  a  sad  voice. 

"Did  they  torture  him?" 

"What  they  done  I  couldn't  jes'  tell  ye.  But  they 
kin't  do  no  more  to  him.  He's  gone." 

She  seemed  to  sense  his  meaning  and  lay  crouched 
upon  the  ground  with  her  sorrow  until  Solomon  lifted 
her  to  her  feet  and  said : 

"Look  here,  little  womern,  this  don't  do  no  good. 
I'm  goin'  to  spread  my  blanket  under  the  pines  an'  I 
want  ye  to  lay  down  with  yer  boy  an'  git  some  sleep. 
We  got  a  long  trip  to-morrer. 

"  'Tain't  so  bad  as  it  might  be — ye're  kind  o'  lucky 
a'ter  all  is  said  an'  done,"  he  remarked  as  he  covered 
the  woman  and  the  child. 

The  wounded  warrior  and  the  old  men  were  not  to 


THE  VOICE  OF  A  WOMAN  SOBBING    285 

be  found.  They  had  sneaked  away  into  the  bush.  Jack 
and  Solomon  looked  about  and  the  latter  called  but 
got  no  answer. 

"They're  skeered  cl'ar  down  to  the  toe  nails,"  said 
Solomon.  "They  couldn't  stan'  it  here.  A  lightnin' 
thrower  is  a  few  too  many.  They'd  ruther  be  nigh  a 
rattlesnake." 

The  scouts  had  no  sleep  that  night.  They  sat  down 
by  the  trail  side  leaning  against  a  log  and  lighted  their 
pipes. 

"You  'member  Bill  Scott?"  Solomon  whispered. 

"Yes.    We  spent  a  night  in  his  house." 

"He  were  a  mean  cuss.     Sold  rum  to  the  Injuns.     I 

allus  to!'  him  it  were  wrong  but — my  God  A'mighty ! 

—I  never  'spected  that  the  fire  in  the  water  were  a 

goin'   to  burn  him  up  sometime.     No,   sir — I  never 

dreamed  he  were  a-goin'  to  be  punished  so — never." 

They  lay  back  against  the  log  with  their  one  blanket 
spread  and  spent  the  night  in  a  kind  of  half  sleep. 
Every  little  sound  was  "like  a  kick  in  the  ribs,"  as 
Solomon  put  it,  and  drove  them  "into  the  look  and 
listen  business."  The  woman  was  often  crying  out  or 
the  cow  and  horses  getting  up  to  feed. 

"My  son,  go  to  sleep,"  said  Solomon.  "I  tell  ye 
there  ain't  no  danger  now — not  a  bit.  I  don't  know 
much  but  I  know  Injuns — plenty." 

In  spite  of  his  knowledge  even  Solomon  himself 
could  not  sleep.  A  little  before  daylight  they  arose 
and  began  to  stir  about. 


286    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  was  badly  burnt  by  that  fire,"  Jack  whispered. 

"Inside !"  Solomon  answered.  "So  was  I.  My  soul 
were  a-sweatin'  all  night." 

The  morning  was  chilly.  They  gathered  birch  bark 
and  dry  pine  and  soon  had  a  fire  going.  Solomon 
stole  over  to  the  thicket  where  the  woman  and  child 
were  lying  and  returned  in  a  moment. 

"They're  sound  asleep,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 
"We'll  let  'em  alone." 

He  began  to  make  tea  and  got  out  the  last  of  their 
bread  and  dried  meat  and  bacon.  He  was  frying  the 
latter  when  he  said : 

"That  'ere  is  a  mighty  likely  womern." 

He  turned  the  bacon  with  his  fork  and  added : 

"Turrible  purty  when  she  were  young.  Allus 
hated  the  rum  business." 

Jack  went  out  on  the  wild  meadow  and  brought  in 
the  cow  and  milked  her,  filling  a  basin  and  a  quart 
bottle. 

Solomon  went  to  the  thicket  and  called: 

"Mis'  Scott!" 

The  woman  answered. 

"Here's  a  tow'l  an'  a  leetle  jug  o'  soap,  Mis'  Scott. 
Ye  kin  take  the  boy  to  the  crick  an'  git  washed  an' 
then  come  to  the  fire  an'  eat  yer  break  fust." 

The  boy  was  a  handsome,  blond  lad  with  blue  eyes 
and  a  serious  manner.  His  confidence  in  the  protec- 
tion of  his  mother  was  sublime. 


THE  VOICE  OF  A  WOMAN  SOBBING    287 

"What's  yer  name?"  Solomon  asked,  looking  up  at 
the  lad  whom  he  had  lifted  high  in  the  air. 

"Whig  Scott,"  the  boy  answered  timidly  with  tears 
in  his  eyes. 

"What!    Beyeskeeredo'me?" 

These  words  came  from  the  little  lad  as  he  began 
to  cry.  "No,  sir.  I  ain't  skeered.  I'm  a  brave 
man." 

"Courage  is  the  first  virtue  in  which  the  young  are 
schooled  on  the  frontier,"  Jack  wrote  in  a  letter  to  his 
friends  at  home  in  which  he  told  of  the  history  of  that 
day.  "The  words  and  manner  of  the  boy  reminded 
me  of  my  own  childhood. 

"Solomon  held  Whig  in  his  lap  and  fed  him  and 
soon  won  his  confidence.  The  backs  of  the  horses  and 
the  cow  were  so  badly  galled  they  could  not  be  ridden, 
but  we  were  able  to  lash  the  packs  over  a  blanket  on 
one  of  the  horses.  We  drove  the  beasts  ahead  of  us. 
The  Indians  had  timbered  the  swales  here  and  there 
so  that  we  were  able  to  pass  them  with  little  trouble. 
Over  the  worst  places  I  had  the  boy  on  my  back 
while  Solomon  carried  'Mis'  Scott'  in  his  arms  as  if 
she  were  a  baby.  He  was  very  gentle  with  her.  To 
him,  as  you  know,  a  woman  has  been  a  sacred  creature 
since  his  wife  died.  He  seemed  to  regard  the  boy  as 
a  wonderful  kind  of  plaything.  At  the  camping-places 
he  spent  every  moment  of  his  leisure  tossing  him  in 
the  air  or  rolling  on  the  ground  with  him. 


288     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"One  day  when  the  woman  sat  by  the  fire  crying,  the 
little  lad  touched  her  brow  with  his  hand  and  said : 

"  'Don't  be  skeered,  mother.  I'm  brave.  I'll  take 
care  o'  you.' 

"Solomon  came  to  where  I  was  breaking  some  dry 
sticks  for  the  fire  and  said  laughingly,  as  he  wiped  a 
tear  from  his  cheek  with  the  back  of  his  great  right 
hand: 

•  'Did  ye  ever  see  sech  a  gol'  durn  cunnin'  leetle 
cricket  in  yer  born  days — ever  ?' 

"Always  thereafter  he  referred  to  the  boy  as  the 
Little  Cricket. 

"That  would  have  been  a  sad  journey  but  for  my 
interest  in  these  reactions  on  this  great  son  of  Pan, 
with  whom  I  traveled.  I  think  that  he  has  found  a 
thing  he  has  long  needed,  and  I  wonder  what  will 
come  of  it. 

"When  he  had  discovered,  by  tracks  in  the  trail,  that 
the  Indians  who  had  run  away  from  us  were  gone 
South,  he  had  no  further  fear  of  being  molested. 

"  'They've  gone  on  to  tell  what  happened  on  the 
first  o'  the  high  slants  an'  to  warn  their  folks  that  the 
Son  o'  the  Thunder  is  comin'  with  lightnin'  in  his 
hands.  Injuns  is  like  rabbits  when  the  Great  Spirit 
begins  to  rip  'em  up.  They  kin't  stan'  it." 

That  afternoon  Solomon,  with  a  hook  and  line  and 
grubs,  gathered  from  rotted  stumps,  caught  many  trout 
in  a  brook  crossing  the  trail  and  fried  them  with  slices 
of  salt  pork.  In  the  evening  they  had  the  best  supper 


THE  VOICE  OF  A  WOMAN  SOBBING    289 

of  their  journey  in  what  he  called  "The  Catamount 
Tavern."     It  was  an  old  bark  lean-to  facing  an  im- 
mense boulder  on  the  shore  of  a  pond.     There,  one 
night  some  years  before,  he  had  killed  a  catamount. 
It  was  in  the  foot-hills  remote  from  the  trail.     In  a 
side  of  the  rock  was  a  small  bear  den  or  cavern  with 
an    overhanging   roof   which    protected   it    from    the 
weather.     On  a  shelf  in  the  cavern  was  a  round  block 
of  pine  about  two  feet  in  diameter  and  a  foot  and  a 
half  long.     This  block  was  his  preserve  jar.    A  num- 
ber of  two-inch  augur  holes  had  been  bored  in  its  top 
and  filled  with  jerked  venison  and  dried  berries.   They 
had  been  packed  with  a  cotton   wick   fastened  to  a 
small  bar  of  wood  at  the  bottom  of  each  hole.     Then 
hot  deer's  fat  had  been  poured  in  with  the  meat  and 
berries  until  the  holes  were  rilled  within  an  inch  or  so 
of  the  top.     When  the  fat  had  hardened  a  thin  layer 
of  melted  beeswax  sealed  up  the  contents  of  each  hole. 
Over  all  wooden  plugs  had  been  driven  fast. 

"They's  good  vittles  in  that  'ere  block,"  said  Solo- 
mon. "  'Nough,  I  guess,  to  keep  a  man  a  week.  All 
he  has  to  do  is  knock  out  the  plug  an'  pull  the  wick  an' 
be  happy." 

"Going  to  do  any  pulling  for  supper  ?"  Jack  queried. 

"Nary  bit,"  said  Solomon.  "Too  much  food  in  the 
woods  now.  We  got  to  be  savin'.  Mebbe  you  er  I  er 
both  on  us  '11  be  comin'  through  here  in  the  winter 
time  skeered  o'  Injuns  an'  short  o'  fodder.  Then  we'll 
open  the  pine  jar." 


290     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  had  fish  and  tea  and  milk  and  that  evening  as 
he  sat  on  his  blanket  before  the  fire  with  the  little  lad 
in  his  lap  he  sang  an  old  rig-a-dig  tune  and  told  stories 
and  answered  many  a  query. 

Jack  wrote  in  one  of  his  letters  that  as  they  fared 
along,  down  toward  the  sown  lands  of  the  upper  Mo- 
hawk, Solomon  began  to  develop  talents  of  which 
none  of  his  friends  had  entertained  the  least  suspicion. 

"He  has  had  a  hard  life  full  of  fight  and  peril  like 
most  of  us  who  were  born  in  this  New  World,"  the 
young  man  wrote.  "He  reminds  me  of  some  of  the  Old 
Testament  heroes,  and  is  not  this  land  we  have  trav- 
ersed like  the  plains  of  Mamre?  What  a  gentle  crea- 
ture he  might  have  been  if  he  had  had  a  chance!  How 
long,  I  wonder,  must  we  be  slayers  of  men?  As  long, 
I  take  it,  as  there  are  savages  against  whom  we  must 
defend  ourselves." 

The  next  morning  they  met  a  company  of  one  of  the 
regiments  of  General  Herkimer  who  had  gone  in  pur- 
suit of  Red  Snout  and  his  followers.  Learning  what 
had  happened  to  that  evil  band  and  its  leader  the  sol- 
diers faced  about  and  escorted  Solomon  and  his  party 
to  Oriskany. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  FIRST  FOURTH  OF  JULY 

MRS.  SCOTT  and  her  child  lived  in  the  family  of  Gen- 
eral Herkimer  for  a  month  or  so.  Settlers  remote 
from  towns  and  villages  had  abandoned  their  farms. 
The  Indians  had  gone  into  the  great  north  bush  per- 
haps to  meet  the  British  army  which  was  said  to  be 
coming  down  from  Canada  in  appalling  numbers. 
Hostilities  in  the  neighborhood  of  The  Long  House 
had  ceased.  The  great  Indian  highway  and  its  villages 
were  deserted  save  by  young  children  and  a  few  an- 
cient red  men  and  squaws,  too  old  for  travel.  Late  in 
June,  Jack  and  Solomon  were  ordered  to  report  to 
General  Schuyler  at  Albany. 

"We're  gettin'  shoveled  eroun'  plenty,"  Solomon 
declared.  "We'll  take  the  womern  an'  the  boy  with  us 
an'  paddle  down  the  Mohawk  to  Albany.  They  kind 
o'  fell  from  Heaven  into  our  hands  an'  we  got  to  look 
a'ter  'em  faithful.  Fust  ye  know  ol'  Herk  '11  be  movin' 
er  swallered  hull  by  the  British  an'  the  Injuns,  like 
Jonah  was  by  the  whale,  then  what  'ud  become  o'  her 
an'  the  Leetle  Cricket?  We  got  to  look  a'ter  'em." 

"I  think  my  mother  will  be  glad  to  give  them  a 
home,"  said  Jack.  "She  really  needs  some  help  in  the 
house  these  days." 

291 


292     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

2 

The  Scotts'  buildings  had  been  burned  by  the  In- 
dians and  their  boats  destroyed  save  one  large  canoe 
which  had  happened  to  be  on  the  south  shore  of  the 
river  out  of  their  reach.  In  this  Jack  and  Solomon 
and  "Mis'  Scott"  and  the  Little  Cricket  set  out  with 
loaded  packs  in  the  moon  of  the  new  leaf,  to  use  a 
phrase  of  the  Mohawks,  for  the  city  of  the  Great  River. 
They  had  a  carry  at  the  Wolf  Riff  and  some  shorter 
ones  but  in  the  main  it  was  a  smooth  and  delightful 
journey,  between  wooded  shores,  down  the  long  wind- 
ing lane  of  the  Mohawk.  Without  fear  of  the  Indians 
they  were  able  to  shoot  deer  and  wild  fowl  and  build 
a  fire  on  almost  any  part  of  the  shore.  Mrs.  Scott 
insisted  on  her  right  to  do  the  cooking.  Jack  kept  a 
diary  of  the  trip,  some  pages  of  which  the  historian 
has  read.  From  them  we  learn : 

"Mrs.  Scott  has  bravely  run  the  gauntlet  of  her 
sorrows.  Now  there  is  a  new  look  in  her  face.  She 
is  a  black  eyed,  dark  haired,  energetic,  comely  woman 
of  forty  with  cheeks  as  red  as  a  ripe  strawberry.  Solo- 
mon calls  her  'middle  sized'  but  she  seems  to  be  large 
enough  to  fill  his  eye.  He  shows  her  great  deference 
and  chooses  his  words  with  particular  care  when  he 
speaks  to  her.  Of  late  he  has  taken  to  singing.  She 
and  the  boy  seem  to  have  stirred  the  depths  in  him 
and  curious  things  are  coming  up  to  the  surface — 
songs  and  stories  and  droll  remarks  and  playful  tricks 
and  an  unusual  amount  of  laughter.  I  suppose  that  it 


THE  FIRST  FOURTH  OF  JULY         293 

is  the  spirit  of  youth  in  him,  stunned  by  his  great  sor- 
row. Now  touched  by  miraculous  hands  he  is  coming 
back  to  his  old  self.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  this : 
the  man  is  ten  years  younger  than  when  I  first  knew 
him  even.  The  Little  Cricket  has  laid  hold  of  his 
heart.  Whig  sits  between  the  feet  of  Solomon  in  the 
stern  during  the  day  and  insists  upon  sleeping  with 
him  at  night. 

"One  morning  my  old  friend  was  laughing  as  we 
stood  on  the  river  bank  washing  ourselves. 
:  'What  are  you  laughing  at  ?'  I  asked. 

"  'That  gol  durn  leetle  skeezucks !'  he  answered. 
'He  were  kickin'  all  night  like  a  mule  fightin'  a  bum- 
ble bee.  'Twere  a  cold  night  an'  I  held  him  ag'in'  me 
to  keep  the  leetle  cuss  warm/ 

"  'Hadn't  you  better  let  him  sleep  with  his  mother?' 
I  asked. 

"  'Wall,  if  it  takes  two  to  do  his  sleepin'  mebbe  I  bet- 
ter be  the  one  that  suffers.  Ain't  she  a  likely  womern  ?' 

"Of  course  I  agreed,  for  it  was  evident  that  she  was 
likely,  sometime,  to  make  him  an  excellent  wife  and 
the  thought  of  that  made  me  happy." 

They  had  fared  along  down  by  the  rude  forts  and 
villages  traveling  stealthily  at  night  in  tree  shadows 
through  "the  Tory  zone,"  as  the  vicinity  of  Fort  John- 
son was  then  called,  camping,  now  and  then,  in  de- 
serted farm-houses  or  putting  up  at  village  inns.  They 
arrived  at  Albany  in  the  morning  of  July  fourth.  Set- 
ting out  from  their  last  camp  an  hour  before  daylight 


294     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

they  had  heard  the  booming  of  cannon  at  sunrise. 
Solomon  stopped  his  paddle  and  listened. 

"By  the  hide  an'  horns  o'  the  devil!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  wonder  if  the  British  have  got  down  to  Albany." 

They  were  alarmed  until  they  hailed  a  man  on  the 
river  road  and  learned  that  Albany  was  having  a  cele- 
bration. 

"What  be  they  celebratin'  ?"  Solomon  asked. 

"The  Declaration  o'  Independence/'  the  citizen  an- 
swered. 

"It's  a  good  idee,"  said  Solomon.  "When  we  git 
thar  this  'ere  ol'  rifle  o'  mine  '11  do  some  talkin'  if  it 
has  a  chanst." 

Church  bells  were  ringing  as  they  neared  the  city. 
Its  inhabitants  were  assembled  on  the  river-front.  The 
Declaration  was  read  and  then  General  Schuyler  made 
a  brief  address  about  the  peril  coming  down  from  the 
north.  He  said  that  a  large  force  under  General  Bur- 
goyne  was  on  Lake  Champlain  and  that  the  British 
were  then  holding  a  council  with  the  Six  Nations  on 
the  shore  of  the  lake  above  Crown  Point. 

"At  present  we  are  unprepared  to  meet  this  great 
force  but  I  suppose  that  help  will  come  and  that  we 
shall  not  be  dismayed.  The  modest  man  who  leads  the 
British  army  from  the  north  declares  in  his  proclama- 
tion that  he  is  'John  Burgoyne,  Esq.,  Lieutenant  Gen- 
eral of  His  Majesty's  forces  in  America,  Colonel  of 
the  Queen's  Regiment  of  Light  Dragoons,  Governor 
of  Fort  William  in  North  Britain,  one  of  the  Commons 


THE  FIRST  FOURTH  OF  JULY         295 

in  Parliament  and  Commander  of  an  Army  and  Fleet 
Employed  on  an  Expedition  from  Canada!'  My 
friends,  such  is  the  pride  that  goeth  before  a  fall.  We 
are  an  humble,  hard-working  people.  No  man  among 
us  can  boast  of  a  name  so  lavishly  adorned.  Our 
names  need  only  the  simple  but  glorious  adornments  of 
firmness,  courage  and  devotion.  With  those,  I  verily 
believe,  we  shall  have  an  Ally  greater  than  any  this 
world  can  offer.  Let  us  all  kneel  where  we  stand  while 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Munro  leads  us  in  prayer  to  Al- 
mighty God  for  His  help  and  guidance." 

It  was  an  impressive  hour  and  that  day  the  same 
kind  of  talk  was  heard  in  many  places.  The  church 
led  the  people.  Pulpiteers  of  inspired  vision  of  which, 
those  days,  there  were  many,  spoke  with  the  tongues 
of  men  and  of  angels.  A  sublime  faith  in  "The  Great 
Ally"  began  to  travel  up  and  down  the  land. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  AMBUSH 

MRS.  SCOTT  and  her  little  son  were  made  welcome  in 
the  home  of  John  Irons.  Jack  and  Solomon  were  im- 
mediately sent  up  the  river  and  through  the  bush  to 
help  the  force  at  Ti.  In  the  middle  and  late  days  of 
July,  they  reported  to  runners  the  southward  progress 
of  the  British.  They  were  ahead  of  Herkimer's  regi- 
ment of  New  York  militia  on  August  third  when  they 
discovered  the  afnbush — a  misfortune  for  which  they 
were  in  no  way  responsible.  Herkimer  and  his  force 
had  gone  on  without  them  to  relieve  Fort  Schuyler. 
The  two  scouts  had  ridden  post  to  join  him.  They 
were  afoot  half  a  mile  or  so  ahead  of  the  commander 
when  Jack  heard  the  call  of  the  swamp  robin.  He  hur- 
ried toward  his  friend.  Solomon  was  in  a  thicket  of 
tamaracks. 

"We  got  to  git  back  quick,"  said  the  latter.  "I  see 
sign  o'  an  ambush." 

They  hurried  to  their  command  and  warned  the 
General.  He  halted  and  faced  his  men  about  and  be- 
gan a  retreat.  Jack  and  Solomon  hurried  out  ahead 
of  them  some  twenty  rods  apart.  In  five  minutes  Jack 
heard  Solomon's  call  again.  Thoroughly  alarmed, 
he  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  In  a  moment  he 
met  Solomon.  The  face  of  the  latter  had  that  stern 

296 


THE  AMBUSH  297 

look  which  came  only  in  a  crisis.  Deep  furrows  ran 
across  his  brow.  His  hands  were  shut  tight.  There 
was  an  expression  of  anger  in  his  eyes.  He  swallowed 
as  Jack  came  near. 

"It's  an  ambush  sure  as  hell's  ahead,"  he  whispered. 

As  they  were  hurrying  toward  the  regiment,  he 
added : 

"We  got  to  fight  an'  ag'in'  big  odds — British  an' 
Injuns.  Don't  never  let  yerself  be  took  alive,  my  son, 
lessen  ye  want  to  die  as  Scott  did.  But,  mebbe,  we 
kin  bu'st  the  circle." 

In  half  a  moment  they  met  Herkimer. 

"Git  ready  to  fight,"  said  Solomon.  "We're  sur- 
rounded." 

The  men  were  spread  out  in  a  half-circle  and  some 
hurried  orders  given,  but  before  they  could  take  a  step 
forward  the  trap  was  sprung.  "The  Red  Devils  of 
Brant"  were  rushing  at  them  through  the  timber  with 
yells  that  seemed  to  shake  the  tree-tops.  The  regi- 
ment fired  and  began  to  advance.  Some  forty  Indians 
had  fallen  as  they  fired.  General  Herkimer  and  others 
were  wounded  by  a  volley  from  the  savages. 

"Come  on,  men.  Foller  me  an'  use  yer  bayonets," 
Solomon  shouted.  "We'll  cut  our  way  out" 

The  Indians  ahead  had  no  time  to  load.  Scores  of 
them  were  run  through.  Others  fled  for  their  lives. 
But  a  red  host  was  swarming  up  from  behind  and 
firing  into  the  regiment.  Many  fell.  Many  made  the 
mistake  of  turning  to  fight  back  and  were  overwhelmed 


298     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

and  killed  or  captured.  A  goodly  number  had  cut  their 
way  through  with  Jack  and  Solomon  and  kept  going, 
swapping  cover  as  they  went.  Most  of  them  were 
wounded  in  some  degree.  Jack's  right  shoulder  had 
been  torn  by  a  bullet.  Solomon's  left  hand  was  broken 
and  bleeding.  The  savages  were  almost  on  their  heels, 
not  two  hundred  yards  behind.  The  old  scout  rallied 
his  followers  in  a  thicket  at  the  top  of  a  knoll  with  an 
open  grass  meadow  between  them  and  their  enemies. 
There  they  reloaded  their  rifles  and  stood  waiting. 

"Don't  fire — not  none  o'  ye — till  I  give  the  word. 
Jack,  you  take  my  rifle.  I'm  goin'  to  throw  this  'ere 
bunch  o'  lightnin'." 

Solomon  stepped  out  of  the  thicket  and  showed  him- 
self when  the  savages  entered  the  meadow.  Then  he 
limped  up  the  trail  as  if  he  were  badly  hurt,  in  the 
fashion  of  a  hen  partridge  when  one  has  come  near 
her  brood.  In  a  moment  he  had  dodged  behind  cover 
and  crept  back  into  the  thicket. 

There  were  about  two  hundred  warriors  who  came 
running  across  the  flat  toward  that  point  where  Solo- 
mon had  disappeared.  They  yelled  like  demons  and 
overran  the  little  meadow  with  astonishing  speed. 

"Now  hold  yer  fire — hold  yer  fire  till  I  give  ye  the 
word,  er  we'll  all  be  et  up.  Keep  yer  fingers  off  the 
triggers  now." 

He  sprang  into  the  open.  Astonished,  the  foremost 
runners  halted  while  others  crowded  upon  them.  The 


THE  AMBUSH  299 

"bunch  of  lightning"  began  its  curved  flight  as  Solo- 
mon leaped  behind  a  tree  and  shouted,  'Tire !" 

"  'Tain't  too  much  to  say  that  the  cover  flew  off  o' 
hell  right  thar  at  the  edge  o'  the  Bloody  Medder  that 
minnit — you  hear  to  me,"  he  used  to  tell  his  friends. 
"The  air  were  full  o'  bu'sted  Injun  an'  a  barrel  o'  blood 
an'  grease  went  down  into  the  ground.  A  dozen  er  so 
that  wasn't  hurt  run  back  ercrost  the  medder  like  the 
devil  were  chasin'  "em  all  witn  a  red-hot  iron.  1 
reckon  it'll  allus  be  called  the  Bloody  Medder." 

In  this  retreat  Jack  had  lost  so  much  blood  that  he 
had  to  be  carried  on  a  litter.  Before  night  fell  they 
met  General  Benedict  Arnold  and  a  considerable  force. 
After  a  little  rest  the  tireless  Solomon  went  back  into 
the  bush  with  Arnold  and  two  regiments  to  find  the 
wounded  Herkimer,  if  possible,  and  others  who  might 
be  in  need  of  relief.  They  met  a  band  of  refugees 
corning  in  with  the  body  of  the  General.  They  re- 
ported that  the  far  bush  was  echoing  with  the  shrieks 
of  tortured  captives. 

"Beats  all  what  an  amount  o'  sufiferin'  it  takes  to 
start  a  new  nation,"  Solomon  used  to  say. 

Next  day  Arnold  fought  his  way  to  the  fort,  and 
many  of  St.  Leger's  Rangers  and  their  savage  allies 
were  slain  or  captured  or  broken  into  little  bands  and 
sent  flying  for  their  lives  into  the  northern  bush.  So 
the  siege  of  Fort  Schuyler  was  raised. 

"I  never  see  no  better  fightin'  man  than  Arnold/' 


300     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Solomon  used  to  say.  "I  seen  him  fight  in  the  middle 
bush  an'  on  the  Stillwater.  Under  fire  he  was  a  reg'- 
lar  wolverine.  Allus  up  ag'in'  the  hottest  side  o'  hell 
an'  sayin' : 

"  'Come  on,  boys.     We  kin't  expec'  to  live  forever/ 
"But  Arnold  were  a  sore  head.     Allus  kickin'  over 
the  traces  an*  complainin'  that  he  never  got  proper 
credit." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  BINKUSSING  OF  COLONEL   BURLEY 

SOLOMON  had  been  hit  in  the  thigh  by  a  rifle  bullet 
on  his  way  to  the  fort.  He  and  Jack  and  other 
wounded  men  were  conveyed  in  boats  and  litters  to 
the  hospital  at  Albany  where  Jack  remained  until  the 
leaves  were  gone.  Solomon  recovered  more  quickly 
and  was  with  Lincoln's  militia  under  Colonel  Brown 
when  they  joined  Johnson's  Rangers  at  Ticonderoga 
and  cut  off  the  supplies  of  the  British  army.  Later 
having  got  around  the  lines  of  the  enemy  with  this 
intelligence  he  had  a  part  in  the  fighting  on  Bemus 
Heights  and  the  Stillwater  and  saw  the  defeated  Brit- 
ish army  under  Burgoyne  marching  eastward  in  dis- 
grace to  be  conveyed  back  to  England. 

Jack  had  recovered  and  was  at  home  when  Solomon 
arrived  in  Albany  with  the  news. 

"Wai,  my  son,  I  cocalate  they's  goin'  to  be  a  weddin' 
in  our  fam'ly  afore  long,"  said  the  latter. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  Jack  inquired. 

"  'Cause  John  Burgoyne,  High  Cockylorum  and 
Cockydoodledo,  an'  all  his  army  has  been  licked  an' 
kicked  an'  started  fer  hum  an'  made  to  promise  that 
they  won't  be  sassy  no  more.  I  tell  ye  the  war  is  goin' 
to  end.  They'll  see  that  it  won't  pay  to  keep  it  up." 

"But  you  do  not  know  that  Howe  has  taken  Phila- 
301 


302     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

delphia,"  said  Jack.  "His  army  entered  it  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  September.  Washington  is  in  a  bad 
fix.  You  and  I  have  been  ordered  to  report  to  him  at 
White  Marsh  as  soon  as  possible." 

"That  ol*  King  'ud  keep  us  fightin'  fer  years  if  he 
had  his  way,"  said  Solomon.  "He  don't  have  to  bleed 
an'  groan  an'  die  in  the  swamps  like  them  English  boys 
have  been  doin'.  It's  too  bad  but  we  got  to  keep  killin' 
'em,  an'  when  the  bad  news  reaches  the  good  folks 
over  thar  mebbe  the  King'll  git  spoke  to  proper.  We 
got  to  keep  a-goin'.  Fer  the  fust  time  in  my  life  I'm 
glad  to  git  erway  from  the  big  bush.  The  Injuns  have 
found  us  a  purty  tough  bit  o'  fodder  but  they's  no 
tellin',  out  thar  in  the  wilderness,  when  a  man  is  goin' 
to  be  roasted  and  chawed  up." 

Solomon  spent  a  part  of  the  evening  at  play  with 
the  Little  Cricket  and  the  other  children  and  when  the 
young  ones  had  gone  to  bed,  went  out  for  a  walk  with 
"Mis'  Scott"  on  the  river-front. 

Mrs.  Irons  had  said  of  the  latter  that  she  was  a  most 
amiable  and  useful  person. 

"The  Little  Cricket  has  won  our  hearts,"  she  added. 
"We  love  him  as  we  love  our  own." 

When  Jack  and  Solomon  were  setting  out  in  a  hired 
sloop  for  the  Highlands  next  morning  there  were  tears 
in  the  dark  eyes  of  "Mis'  Scott." 

"Ain't  she  a  likely  womern?"  Solomon  asked  again 
when  with  sails  spread  they  had  begun  to  cut  the  water. 

Near  King's  Ferry  in  the  Highlands  on  the  Hudson 


THE  BINKUSSING  OF  COLONEL  BURLEY  303 

they  spent  a  night  in  the  camp  of  the  army  under  Put- 
nam. There  they  heard  the  first  note  of  discontent 
with  the  work  of  their  beloved  Washington.  It  came 
from  the  lips  of  one  Colonel  Burley  of  a  Connecticut 
regiment.  The  Commander-in-Chief  had  lost  New- 
port, New  York  and  Philadelphia  and  been  defeated 
on  Long  Island  and  in  two  pitched  battles  on  ground 
of  his  own  choosing  at  Brandywine  and  Germantown. 

The  two  scouts  were  angry. 

It  had  been  a  cold,  wet  afternoon  and  they,  with 
others,  were  drying  themselves  around  a  big,  open  fire 
of  logs  in  front  of  the  camp  post-office. 

Solomon  was  quick  to  answer  the  complaint  of 
Burley. 

"He's  allus  been  fightin'  a  bigger  force  o'  well 
trained,  well  paid  men  that  had  plenty  to  eat  an'  drink 
an'  wear.  An'  he's  fit  'em  with  jest  a  shoe  string  o'  an 
army.  When  it  come  to  him,  it  didn't  know  nothin' 
but  how  to  shoot  an'  dig  a  hole  in  the  ground.  The 
men  wouldn't  enlist  fer  more'n  six  months  an'  as  soon 
as  they'd  learnt  suthin',  they  put  fer  hum.  An'  with 
that  kind  o'  an  army,  he  druv  the  British  out  o'  Boston. 
With  a  leetle  bunch  o'  five  thousand  unpaid,  barefoot, 
ragged  backed  devils,  he  druv  the  British  out  o'  Jer- 
sey an'  they  had  twelve  thousan'  men  in  that  neighbor- 
hood. He's  had  to  dodge  eround  an'  has  kep'  his  army 
from  bein'  et  up,  hide,  horns  an'  taller,  by  the  power 
o'  his  brain.  He's  managed  to  take  keer  o'  himself 
down  thar  in  Jersey  an'  Pennsylvaney  with  the  Brit- 


304     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

ish  on  all  sides  o'  him,  while  the  best  fighters  he  had 
come  up  here  to  help  Gates.  I  don't  see  how  he  could 
'a'  done  it— damned  if  I  do — without  the  help  o'  God." 

"Gates  is  a  real  general,"  Burley  answered.  "Wash- 
ington don't  amount  to  a  hill  o'  beans." 

Solomon  turned  quickly  and  advanced  upon  Burley. 

"I  didn't  Aspect  to  find  an  enemy  o'  my  kentry  in 
this  'ere  camp,"  he  said  in  a  quiet  tone.  "Ye  got  to 
take  that  back,  mister,  an'  do  it  prompt,  er  ye're  goin* 
to  be  all  mussed  up." 

"Ye  could  see  the  ha'r  begin  to  brustle  under  his 
coat,"  Solomon  was  wont  to  say  of  Burley,  in  speaking 
of  that  moment.  "He  stepped  up  clus  an'  growled  an' 
showed  his  teeth  an'  then  he  begun  to  git  rooined." 

Burley  had  kept  a  public  house  for  sailors  at  New 
Haven  and  had  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  bad  man 
in  a  quarrel.  Of  just  what  happened  there  is  a  full 
account  in  a  little  army  journal  of  that  time  called 
The  Camp  Gazette.  Burley  aimed  a  blow  at 
Solomon  with  his  fist.  Then  as  Solomon  used  to  put 
it,  "the  water  bu'st  through  the  dam."  It  was  his  way 
of  describing  the  swift  and  decisive  action  which  was 
crowded  into  the  next  minute.  He  seized  Burley  and 
hurled  him  to  the  ground.  With  one  hand  on  the 
nape  of  his  neck  and  the  other  on  the  seat  of  his  trou- 
sers, Solomon  lifted  his  enemy  above  his  head  and 
quoited  him  over  the  tent  top. 

Burley  picked  himself  up  and  having  lost  his  head 


THE  BINKUSSING  OF  COLONEL  BURLEY  305 

drew  his  hanger,  and,  like  a  mad  bull,  rushed  at  Solo- 
mon.   Suddenly  he  found  his  way  barred  by  Jack. 

"Would  you  try  to  run  a  man  through  before  he 
can  draw  ?"  the  latter  asked. 

Solomon's  old  sword  flashed  out  of  its  scabbard. 

"Let  him  come  on,"  he  shouted.  "I'm  more  to  hum 
with  a  hanger  than  I  be  with  good  vittles." 

Of  all  the  words  on  record  from  the  lips  of  this  man, 
these  are  the  most  immodest,  but  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  when  he  spoke  them  his  blood  was  hot. 

Jack  gave  way  and  the  two  came  together  with  a 
clash  of  steel.  A  crowd  had  gathered  about  them  and 
was  increasing  rapidly.  They  had  been  righting  for 
half  a  moment  around  the  fire  when  Solomon  broke 
the  blade  of  his  adversary.  The  latter  drew  his  pistol ! 
Before  he  could  raise  it  Solomon  had  fired  his  own 
weapon.  Burley's  pistol  dropped  on  the  ground.  In- 
stantly its  owner  reeled  and  fell  beside  it.  The  battle 
which  had  lasted  no  more  than  a  minute  had  come  to 
its  end.  There  had  been  three  kinds  of  fighting  in  that 
lively  duel. 

Solomon's  voice  trembled  when  he  cried  out: 

"Ary  man  who  says  a  word  ag'in'  the  Great  Father 
is  goin'  to  git  mussed  up." 

He  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  which  had 
gathered  around  the  wounded  man. 

"Let  me  bind  his  arm,"  he  said. 

But  a  surgeon  had  stood  in  the  crowd.     He  was 


306     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

then  doing  what  he  could  for  the  shattered  member  of 
the  hot-headed  Colonel  Burley.  Jack  was  helping  him. 
Some  men  arrived  with  a  litter  and  the  unfortunate 
officer  was  quickly  on  his  way  to  the  hospital. 

Jack  and  Solomon  set  out  for  headquarters.  They 
met  Putnam  and  two  officers  hurrying  toward  the  scene 
of  the  encounter.  Solomon  had  fought  in  the  bush 
with  him.  Twenty  years  before  they  had  been  friends 
and  comrades.  Solomon  saluted  and  stopped  the  griz- 
zled hero  of  many  a  great  adventure. 

"Binkus,  what's  the  trouble  here?"  the  latter  asked, 
as  the  crowd  who  had  followed  the  two  scouts  gath- 
ered about  them. 

Solomon  gave  his  account  of  what  had  happened. 
It  was  quickly  verified  by  many  eye-witnesses. 

"Ye  done  right,"  said  the  General.  "Burley  has  got 
to  take  it  back  an'  apologize.  He  ain't  fit  to  be  an 
officer.  He  behaved  himself  like  a  bully.  Any  man 
who  talks  as  he  done  orto  be  cussed  an'  Binkussed  an' 
sent  to  the  guard  house." 

Within  three  days  Burley  had  made  an  ample  apol- 
ogy for  his  conduct  and  this  bulletin  was  posted  at 
headquarters : 

"Liberty  of  speech  has  its  limits.  It  must  be  con- 
trolled by  the  law  of  decency  and  the  general  purposes 
of  our  army  and  government.  The  man  who  respects 
no  authority  above  his  own  intellect  is  a  conceited  ass 
and  would  be  a  tyrant  if  he  had  the  chance.  No  word 


THE  BINKUSSING  OF  COLONEL  BURLEY  307 

of  disrespect  for  a  superior  officer  will  be  tolerated  in 
this  army." 

'The  Binkussing  of  Burley" — a  phrase  which  trav- 
eled far  beyond  the  limits  of  Putnam's  camp — and  the 
notice  of  warning  which  followed  was  not  without  its 
effect  on  the  propaganda  of  Gates  and  his  friends. 

2 

Next  day  Jack  and  Solomon  set  out  with  a  force  of 
twelve  hundred  men  for  Washington's  camp  at  White 
Marsh  near  Philadelphia.  There  Jack  found  a  letter 
from  Margaret.  It  had  been  sent  first  to  Benjamin 
Franklin  in  Paris  through  the  latter's  friend  Mr.  David 
Hartley,  a  distinguished  Englishman  who  was  now  and. 
then  sounding  the  Doctor  on  the  subject  of  peace. 

"I  am  sure  that  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that  my 
love  for  you  is  not  growing  feeble  on  account  of  its 
age,"  she  wrote.  "The  thought  has  come  to  me  that 
I  am  England  and  that  you  are  America.  It  will  be  a 
wonderful  and  beautiful  thing  if  through  all  this  bit- 
terness and  bloodshed  we  can  keep  our  love  for  each 
other.  My  dear,  I  would  have  you  know  that  in  spite 
of  this  alien  King  and  his  followers,  I  hold  to  my  love 
for  you  and  am  waiting  with  that  patience  which  God 
has  put  in  the  soul  of  your  race  and  mine,  for  the  end 
of  our  troubles.  If  you  could  come  to  France  I  would 
try  to  meet  you  in  Doctor  Franklin's  home  at  Passy. 
So  I  have  the  hope  in  me  that  you  may  be  sent  to 
France." 


308     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

This  is  as  much  of  the  letter  as  can  claim  admission 
to  our  history.  It  gave  the  young  man  a  supply  of 
happiness  sufficient  to  fill  the  many  days  of  hardship 
and  peril  in  the  winter  at  Valley  Forge.  It  was  read 
to  Solomon. 

"Say,  this  'ere  letter  kind  o'  teches  my  feelin's — does 
sart'in,"  said  Solomon.  "I'm  goin'  to  see  what  kin  be 
done." 

Unknown  to  Jack,  within  three  days  Solomon  had  a 
private  talk  with  the  Commander-in-Chief  at  his  head- 
quarters. The  latter  had  a  high  regard  for  the  old 
scout.  He  maintained  a  dignified  silence  while  Solo- 
mon made  his  little  soeech  and  then  arose  and  offered 
his  hand  saying  in  a  kindly  tone : 

"Colonel  Binkus,  I  must  bid  you  good  night." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   GREATEST   TRAIT   OF   A   GREAT   COMMANDER 

JACK  IRONS  used  to  say  that  no  man  he  had  known 
had  such  an  uncommon  amount  of  common  sense  as 
George  Washington.  He  wrote  to  his  father : 

"It  would  seem  that  he  must  be  in  communication 
with  the  all-seeing  mind.  If  he  were  to  make  a  serious 
blunder  here  our  cause  would  fail.  The  enemy  tries  in 
vain  to  fool  him.  Their  devices  are  as  an  open  book 
to  Washington.  They  have  fooled  me  and  Solomon 
and  other  officers  but  not  him.  I  had  got  quite  a  con- 
ceit of  myself  in  judging  strategy  but  now  it  is  all 
gone. 

"One  day  I  was  scouting  along  the  lines,  a  few  miles 
from  Philadelphia,  when  I  came  upon  a  little,  ragged, 
old  woman.  She  wished  to  go  through  the  lines  into 
the  country  to  buy  flour.  The  moment  she  spoke  I 
recognized  her.  It  was  old  Lydia  Darrah  who  had 
done  my  washing  for  me  the  last  year  of  my  stay  in 
Philadelphia. 

"  'Why,  Lydia,  how  do  you  do  ?'  I  asked. 

"  The  way  I  have  allus  done,  laddie  buck,"  she 
answered  in  her  good  Irish  brogue.  'Workin'  at  the 
tub  an'  fightin'  the  divil — bad  'cess  to  him — but  I 
kape  me  hilth  an*  lucky  I  am  to  do  that — thanks  to  the 

309 


310     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

good  God !  How  is  me  fine  lad  that  I'd  niver  'a'  knowed 
but  for  the  voice  o'  him  ?' 

"  'Not  as  fine  as  when  I  wore  the  white  ruffles  but 
stout  as  a  moose,'  I  answered.  'The  war  is  a  sad 
business/ 

"'It  is  that— may  the  good  God  defind  us!  We 
cross  the  sea  to  be  rid  o'  the  divil  an'  he  follys  an' 
grabs  us  be  the  neck.' 

"We  were  on  a  lonely  road.  She  looked  about  and 
seeing  no  one,  put  a  dirty  old  needle  case  in  my  hands. 

"  'Take  that,  me  smart  lad.  It's  fer  good  luck/  she 
answered. 

"As  I  left  her  I  was  in  doubt  of  the  meaning  of  her 
generosity.  Soon  I  opened  the  needle  book  and  found 
in  one  of  its  pockets  a  piece  of  thin  paper  ro1led  tight. 
On  it  I  found  the  information  that  Howe  would  be 
leaving  the  city  next  morning  with  five  thousand  men, 
and  baggage  wagons  and  thirteen  cannon  and  eleven 
boats.  The  paper  contained  other  details  of  the  pro- 
posed British  raid.  I  rode  post  to  headquarters  and 
luckily  found  the  General  in  his  tent.  On  the  way  I 
arrived  at  a  definite  conviction  regarding  the  plans  cf 
Howe.  I  was  eager  to  give  it  air,  having  no  doubt  of 
its  soundness.  The  General  gave  me  respectful  atten- 
tion while  I  laid  the  facts  before  him.  Then  I  took 
my  courage  in  my  hands  and  asked : 

"  'General,  may  I  venture  to  express  an  opinion  ?' 

"  'Certainly/  he  answered. 

"''It  is  the  plan  of  Howe  to  cross  the  Delaware  in 


THE   GREATEST   TRAIT  311 

his  boats  so  as  to  make  us  believe  that  he  is  going  to 
New  York.  He  will  recross  the  river  above  Bristol 
and  suddenly  descend  upon  our  rear/ 

"Washington  sat,  with  his  arms  folded,  looking  very 
grave  but  made  no  answer. 

"In  other  words,  again  I  presented  my  conviction. 

"Still  he  was  silent  and  I  a  little  embarrassed.  In 
half  a  moment  I  ventured  to  ask : 

'  'General,  what  is  your  opinion  ?' 

"He  answered  in  a  kindly  tone :  'Colonel  Irons, 
the  enemy  has  no  business  in  our  rear.  The  boats  are 
only  for  our  scouts  and  spies  to  look  at.  The  British 
hope  to  fool  us  with  them.  To-morrow  morning  about 
daylight  they  will  be  coming  down  the  Edgely  Bye 
Road  on  our  left.' 

"He  called  an  aid  and  ordered  that  our  front  be 
made  ready  for  an  attack  in  the  early  morning. 

"I  left  headquarters  with  my  conceit  upon  me  and 
half  convinced  that  our  Chief  was  out  in  his  judg- 
ment of  that  matter.  No  like  notion  will  enter  my 
mind  again.  Solomon  and  I  have  quarters  on  the 
Edgely  Bye  Road.  A  little  after  three  next  morning 
the  British  were  reported  coming  down  the  road.  A 
large  number  of  them  were  killed  and  captured  and  the 
rest  roughly  handled. 

"A  smart  Yankee  soldier  in  his  trial  for  playing 
cards  yesterday,  set  up  a  defense  which  is  the  talk  of 
the  camp.  For  a  little  time  it  changed,  the  tilt  of  the 
wrinkles  on  the  grim  visage  of  war.  His  claim  was 


312     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

that  he  had  no  Bible  and  that  the  cards  aided  him  in 
his  devotions. 

"The  ace  reminded  him  of  the  one  God;  the  deuce 
of  the  Father  and  Son;  the  tray  of  the  Trinity;  the 
four  spot  of  the  four  evangelists — Matthew,  Luke, 
Mark  and  John ;  the  five  spot  of  the  five  wise  and  the 
five  foolish  virgins;  the  six  spot  of  the  six  days  of 
creation;  the  seven  of  the  Sabbath;  the  eight  of  Noah 
and  his  family;  the  nine  of  the  nine  ungrateful  lepers; 
the  ten  of  the  Ten  Commandments;  the  knave  of  Ju- 
das; the  queen  was  to  him  the  Queen  of  Sheba  and 
the  king  was  the  one  great  King  of  Heaven  and  the 
Universe. 

'You  will  go  to  the  guard  house  for  three  days 
so  that,  hereafter,  a  pack  of  cards  will  remind  you  only 
of  a  foolish  soldier,'  said  Colonel  Provost." 

Snow  and  bitter  winds  descended  upon  the  camp 
early  in  December.  It  was  a  worn,  ragged,  weary  but 
devoted  army  of  about  eleven  thousand  men  that  fol- 
lowed Washington  into  Valley  Forge  to  make  a  camp 
for  the  winter.  Of  these,  two  thousand  and  ninety- 
eight  were  unfit  for  duty.  Most  of  the  latter  had  nei- 
ther boots  nor  shoes.  They  marched  over  roads 
frozen  hard,  with  old  rags  and  pieces  of  hide  wrapped 
around  their  feet.  There  were  many  red  tracks  in  the 
snow  in  the  Valley  of  the  Schuylkill  that  day.  Hardly 
a  man  was  dressed  for  cold  weather.  Hundreds  were 
shivering  and  coughing  with  influenza. 

"When  I  look  at  these  men  I  can  not  help  thinking 


THE   GREATEST   TRAIT  313 

how  small  are  my  troubles,"  Jack  wrote  to  his  mother. 
"I  will  complain  of  them  no  more.  Solomon  and  I 
have  given  away  all  the  clothes  we  have  except  those 
on  our  backs.  A  fiercer  enemy  than  the  British  is  be- 
sieging us  here.  He  is  Winter.  It  is  the  duty  of  the 
people  we  are  fighting  for  to  defend  us  against  this 
enemy.  We  should  not  have  to  exhaust  ourselves  in 
such  a  battle.  Do  they  think  that  because  God  has 
shown  His  favor  at  Brooklyn,  Saratoga,  and  sundry 
other  places,  He  is  in  a  way  committed  ?  Are  they  no 
disposed  to  take  it  easy  and  over- work  the  Creator? 
I  can  not  resist  the  impression  that  they  are  praying 
too  much  and  paying  too  little.  I  fear  they  are  lying 
back  and  expecting  God  to  send  ravens  to  feed  us  and 
angels  to  make  our  boots  and  weave  our  blankets  and 
clothing.  He  will  not  go  into  that  kind  of  business. 
The  Lord  is  not  a  shoemaker  or  a  weaver  or  a  baker. 
He  can  have  no  respect  for  a  people  who  would 
leave  its  army  to  starve  and  freeze  to  death  in  the  back 
country.  If  they  are  to  do  that  their  faith  is  rotten 
with  indolence  and  avarice. 

"There  are  many  here  who  have  nothing  to  wear  but 
blankets  with  armholes,  belted  by  a  length  of  rope. 
There  are  hundreds  who  have  no  blankets  to  cover 
them  at  night.  They  have  to  take  turns  sitting  by  the 
fire  while  others  are  asleep.  For  them  a  night's  rest 
is  impossible.  Let  this  letter  be  read  to  the  people  of 
Albany  and  may  they  not  lie  down  to  sleep  until  they 
have  stirred  themselves  in  our  behalf,  and  if  any  man 


3H     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

dares  to  pray  to  God  to  help  us  until  he  has  given  of 
his  abundance  to  that  end  and  besought  his  neighbors 
to  do  the  same,  I  could  wish  that  his  praying  would 
choke  him.  Are  we  worthy  to  be  saved — that  is  the 
question.  If  we  expect  God  to  furnish  the  flannel  and 
the  shoe  leather,  we  are  not.  That  is  our  part  of  the 
great  task.  Are  we  going  to  shirk  it  and  fail  ? 

"We  are  making  a  real  army.  The  men  who  are 
able  to  work  are  being  carefully  trained  by  the 
crusty  old  Baron  Steuben  and  a  number  of  French 
officers." 

That  they  did  not  fail  was  probably  due  to  the  fact 
that  there  were  men  in  the  army  like  this  one  who 
seemed  to  have  some  little  understanding  of  the  will  of 
God  and  the  duty  of  man.  This  letter  and  others  like 
it,  traveled  far  and  wide  and  more  than  a  million 
hands  began  to  work  for  the  army. 

The  Schuylkill  was  on  one  side  of  the  camp  and 
wooded  ridges,  protected  by  entrenchments,  on  the 
other.  Trees  were  felled  and  log  huts  constructed, 
sixteen  by  fourteen  feet  in  size.  Twelve  privates  were 
quartered  in  each  hut. 

The  Gates  propaganda  was  again  being  pushed. 
Anonymous  letters  complaining  that  Washington  was 
not  protecting  the  people  of  Pennsylvania  and  New 
Jersey  from,  depredations  were  appearing  in  sundry 
newspapers.  By  and  by  a  committee  of  investigation 
arrived  from  Congress.  They  left  satisfied  that  Wash- 
ington had  done  well  to  keep  his  army  alive,  and  that 


THE   GREATEST   TRAIT  315 

he  must  have  help  or  a  large  part  of  it  would  die  of 
cold  and  hunger. 

2 

It  was  on  a  severe  day  in  March  that  Washington 
sent  for  Jack  Irons.  The  scout  found  the  General  sit- 
ting alone  by  the  fireside  in  his  office  which  was  part  of 
a  small  farm-house.  He  was  eating  a  cold  luncheon 
of  baked  beans  and  bread  without  butter.  Jack  had 
just  returned  from  Philadelphia  where  he  had  risked 
his  life  as  a  spy,  of  which  adventure  no  details  are  re- 
corded save  the  one  given  in  the  brief  talk  which  fol- 
lows. The  scout  smiled  as  he  took  the  chair  offered. 

"The  British  are  eating  no  such  frugal  fare,"  he 
remarked. 

"I  suppose  not,"  the  General  answered. 

"The  night  before  I  left  Philadelphia  Howe  and  his 
staff  had  a  banquet  at  The  Three  Mariners.  There 
were  roasted  hams  and  geese  and  turkeys  and  patties 
and  pies  and  jellies  and  many  kinds  of  wine  and  high 
merriment  The  British  army  is  well  fed  and  clothed." 

"We  are  not  so  provided  but  we  must  be  patient," 
said  Washington.  "Our  people  mean  well,  they  are  as 
yet  unorganized.  This  matter  of  being  citizens  of  an 
independent  nation  at  war  is  new  to  them.  The  men 
who  are  trying  to  establish  a  government  while  they 
are  defending  it  against  a  powerful  enemy  have  a  most 
complicated  problem.  Naturally,  there  are  disagree- 
ments  and  factions.  Congress  may,  for  a  time,  be  di- 
vided but  the  army  must  stand  as  one  man.  This  thing 


316    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

we  call  human  liberty  has  become  for  me  a  sublime 
personality.  In  times  when  I  could  see  no  light,  she 
has  kept  my  heart  from  failing." 

"She  is  like  the  goddess  of  old  who  fought  in  the 
battles  of  Agamemnon,"  said  Jack.  "Perhaps  she  is 
the  angel  of  God  who  hath  been  given  charge  concern- 
ing us.  Perhaps  she  is  traveling  up  and  down  the 
land  and  overseas  in  our  behalf." 

Washington  sat  looking  thoughtfully  into  the  fire. 
In  a  moment  he  said : 

"She  is  like  a  wise  and  beautiful  mother  assuring 
us  that  our  sorrows  will  end,  by  and  by,  and  that  we 
must  keep  on." 

The  General  arose  and  went  to  his  desk  and  re- 
turned with  sealed  letters  in  his  hand  and  said: 

"Colonel,  I  have  a  task  for  you.  I  could  give  it  to 
no  man  in  whom  I  had  not  the  utmost  confidence.  You 
have  earned  a  respite  from  the  hardships  and  perils 
of  this  army.  Here  is  a  purse  and  two  letters.  With 
them  I  wish  you  to  make  your  way  to  France  as  soon 
as  possible  and  turn  over  the  letters  to  Franklin.  The 
Doctor  is  much  in  need  of  help.  Put  your  services  at 
his  disposal.  A  ship  will  be  leaving  Boston  on  the 
fourteenth.  A  good  horse  has  been  provided;  your 
route  is  mapped.  You  will  need  to  start  after  the  noon 
mess.  For  the  first  time  in  ten  days  there  will  be  fresh 
beef  on  the  tables.  Two  hundred  blankets  have  arrived 
and  more  are  coming.  After  they  have  eaten,  give  the 
men  a  farewell  talk  and  put  them  in  good  heart,  if  you 


THE   GREATEST   TRAIT  317 


can.  We  are  going  to  celebrate  the  winter's  end  which 
can  not  be  long  delayed.  When  you  have  left  the 
table,  Hamilton  will  talk  to  the  boys  in  his  witty  and 
inspiring  fashion." 

Soon  after  one  o'clock  on  the  seventh  of  March, 
1778,  Colonel  Irons  bade  Solomon  good-by  and  set 
out  on  his  long  journey.  That  night  he  slept  in  a  farm- 
house some  fifty  miles  from  Valley  Forge. 

Next  morning  this  brief  note  was  written  to  his 
mother : 

"I  am  on  my  way  to  France,  leaving  mother  and 
father  and  sister  and  brother  and  friend,  as  the  Lord 
has  commanded,  to  follow  Him,  I  verily  believe.  Yes- 
terday the  thought  came  to  me  that  this  thing  we  call 
the  love  of  Liberty  which  is  in  the  heart  of  every  man 
and  woman  of  us,  urging  that  we  stop  at  no  sacrifice 
of  blood  and  treasure,  is  as  truly  the  angel  of  God  as  he 
that  stood  with  Peter  in  the  prison  house.  Last  night 
I  saw  Liberty  in  my  dreams — a  beautiful  woman  she 
was,  of  heroic  stature  with  streaming  hair  and  the 
glowing  eyes  of  youth  and  she  was  dressed  in  a  long 
white  robe  held  at  the  waist  by  a  golden  girdle.  And 
I  thought  that  she  touched  my  brow  and  said : 

"  'My  son,  I  am  sent  for  all  the  children  of  men  and 
not  for  America  alone.  You  will  find  me  in  France 
for  my  task  is  in  many  lands.' 

"I  left  the  brave  old  fighter,  Solomon,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  What  a  man  is  Solomon !  Yet,  God  knows, 
he  is  the  rank  and  file  of  Washington's  army  as  it 


318     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

stands  to-day — ragged,  honest,  religious,  heroic,  half 
fed,  unappreciated,  but  true  as  steel  and  willing,  if  re- 
quired, to  give  up  his  comfort  or  his  life !  How  may 
we  account  for  such  a  man  without  the  help  of  God 
His  angels?" 


BOOK    THREE 
CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN  FRANCE  WITH  FRANKLIN 

JACK  shipped  in  the  packet  Mercury,  of  seventy  tons, 
under  Captain  Simeon  Sampson,  one  of  America's 
ablest  naval  commanders.  She  had  been  built  for  rapid 
sailing  and  when,  the  second  day  out,  they  saw  a  Brit- 
ish frigate  bearing  down  upon  her  they  wore  ship  and 
easily  ran  away  from  their  enemy.  Their  first  landing 
was  at  St.  Martin  on  the  Isle  de  Rhe.  They  crossed 
the  island  on  mules,  being  greeted  with  the  cry : 

"Voila  les  braves  Bostonesl" 

In  France  the  word  Bostone  meant  American  revo- 
lutionist. At  the  ferry  they  embarked  on  a  long  gab- 
bone  for  La  Rochelle.  There  the  young  man  enjoyed 
his  first  repose  on  a  French  lit  built  up  of  sundry  lay- 
ers of  feather  beds.  He  declares  in  his  diary  that  he 
felt  the  need  of  a  ladder  to  reach  its  snowy  summit  of 
white  linen.  He  writes  a  whole  page  on  the  sense  of 
comfort  and  the  dreamless  and  refreshing  sleep  which 
he  had  found  in  that  bed.  The  like  of  it  he  had  not 
known  since  he  had  been  a  fighting  man. 

In  the  morning  he  set  out  in  a  heavy  vehicle  of  two 
wheels,  drawn  by  three  horses.  Its  postillion  in  frizzed 
and  powdered  hair,  under  a  cocked  hat,  with  a  long 


320     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

queue  on  his  back  and  in  great  boots,  hooped  with  iron, 
rode  a  lively  little  bidet.  Such  was  the  French  stage- 
coach of  those  days,  its  running  gear  having  been 
planned  with  an  eye  to  economy,  since  vehicles  were 
taxed  according  to  the  number  of  their  wheels.  The 
diary  informs  one  that  when  the  traveler  stopped  for 
food  at  an  inn.  he  was  expected  to  furnish  his  own 
knife.  The  highways  were  patrolled,  night  and  day, 
by  armed  horsemen  and  robberies  were  unknown.  The 
vineyards  were  not  walled  or  fenced.  All  travelers 
had  a  license  to  help  themselves  to  as  much  fruit  as 
they  might  wish  to  eat  when  it  was  on  the  vines. 

They  arrived  at  Chantenay  on  a  cold  rainy  evening. 
They  were  settled  in  their  rooms,  happy  that  they  had 
protection  from  the  weather,  when  their  landlord  went 
from  room  to  room  informing  them  that  they  would 
have  to  move  on. 

"Why?"  Jack  ventured  to  inquire. 

"Because  a  seigneur  has   arrived." 

"A  seigneur!"  Jack  exclaimed. 

"Out,  Monsieur.     He  is  a  very  great  man." 

"But  suppose  we  refuse  to  go,"  said  Jack. 

"Then,  Monsieur,  I  shall  detain  your  horses.  It  is 
a  law  of  le  grand  monarque" 

There  was  no  dodging  it.  The  coach  and  horses 
came  back  to  the  inn  door.  The  passengers  went  out 
into  the  dark,  rainy  night  to  plod  along  in  the  mud,  an- 
other six  miles  or  so,  that  the  seigneur  and  his  suite 
could  enjoy  that  comfort  the  weary  travelers  had  been 


IN  FRANCE  WITH  FRANKLIN         321 

forced  to  leave.    Such  was  the  power  of  privilege  with 
which  the  great  Louis  had  saddled  his  kingdom. 

They  proceeded  to  Ancenis,  Angers  and  Breux. 
From  the  latter  city  the  road  to  Versailles  was  paved 
with  flat  blocks  of  stone.  There  were  swarms  of  beg- 
gars in  every  village  and  city  crying  out,  with  hands 
extended,  as  the  coach  passed  them: 

"La  charite,  au  nom  de  Dieu!" 

"France  is  in  no  healthy  condition  when  this  is  pos- 
sible," the  young  man  wrote. 

If  he  met  a  priest  carrying  a  Bon  Dieu  in  a  silver 
vase  every  one  called  out,  "Aux  genoux!"  and  then  the 
beholder  had  to  kneel,  even  if  the  mud  were  ankle 
deep.  So  on  a  wet  day  one's  knees  were  apt  to  be  as 
muddy  as  his  feet. 

The  last  stage  from  Versailles  to  Paris  was  called 
the  post  royale.  There  the  postillion  had  to  be  dressed 
like  a  gentleman.  It  was  a  magnificent  avenue, 
crowded  every  afternoon  by  the  wealth  and  beauty  of 
the  kingdom,  in  gorgeously  painted  coaches,  and 
lighted  at  night  by  great  lamps,  with  double  reflectors, 
over  its  center.  They  came  upon  it  in  the  morning  on 
their  way  to  the  capital.  There  were  few  people  travel- 
ing at  that  hour.  Suddenly  ahead  they  saw  a  cloud  of 
dust.  The  stage  stopped.  On  came  a  band  of  horse- 
men riding  at  a  wild  gallop.  They  were  the  King's 
couriers. 

"Clear  the  way,"  they  shouted.  "The  King's  hunt 
is  coming." 


322     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

All  travelers,  hearing  this  command,  made  quickly 
for  the  sidings,  there  to  draw  rein  and  dismount.  The 
deer  came  in  sight,  running  for  its  life,  the  King  close 
behind  with  all  his  train,  the  hounds  in  full  cry.  Near 
Jack  the  deer  bounded  over  a  hedge  and  took  a  new 
direction.  His  Majesty — a  short,  stout  man  with  blue 
eyes  and  aquiline  nose,  wearing  a  lace  cocked  hat  and 
brown  velvet  coatee  and  high  boots  with  spurs — dis- 
mounted not  twenty  feet  from  the  stage-coach,  saying 
with  great  animation : 

"Vite!  Donnez  moi  un  cheval  frais." 

Instantly  remounting,  he  bounded  over  the  hedge, 
followed  by  his  train. 

2 

A  letter  from  Jack  presents  all  this  color  of  the 
journey  and  avers  that  he  reached  the  house  of  Frank- 
lin in  Passy  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a 
pleasant  May  day.  The  savant  greeted  his  young 
friend  with  an  affectionate  embrace. 

"Sturdy  son  of  my  beloved  country,  you  bring  me 
joy  and  a  new  problem,"  he  said. 

"What  is  the  problem?"  Jack  inquired. 

"That  of  moving  Margaret  across  the  channel.  I 
have  a  double  task  now.  I  must  secure  the  happiness 
of  America  and  of  Jack  Irons." 

He  read  the  despatches  and  then  the  Doctor  and  the 
young  man  set  out  in  a  coach  for  the  palace  of  Ver- 
gennes,  the  Prime  Minister.  Colonel  Irons  was  filled 
with  astonishment  at  the  tokens  of  veneration  for  the 


IN  FRANCE  WITH  FRANKLIN         323 

white-haired  man  which  he  witnessed  in  the  streets  of 
Paris. 

"The  person  of  the  King  could  not  have  attracted 
more  respectful  attention,"  he  writes.  "A  crowd  gath- 
ered about  the  coach  when  we  were  leaving  it  and 
every  man  stood  with  uncovered  head  as  we  passed 
on  our  way  to  the  palace  door.  In  the  crowd  there 
was  much  whispered  praise  of  'Le  grand  savant.'  I 
did  not  understand  this  until  I  met,  in  the  office  of  the 
Compte  de  Vergennes,  the  eloquent  Senator  Gabriel 
Honore  Riquetti  de  Mirabeau.  What  an  impressive 
name!  Yet  I  think  he  deserves  it.  He  has  the  eye  of 
Mars  and  the  hair  of  Samson  and  the  tongue  of  an 
angel,  I  am  told.  In  our  talk,  I  assured  him  that  in 
Philadelphia  Franklin  came  and  went  and  was  less  ob- 
served than  the  town  crier. 

"  'But  your  people  seem  to  adore  him/  I  said. 

"  'As  if  he  were  a  god,'  Mirabeau  answered.  'Yes, 
it  is  true  and  it  is  right.  Has  he  not,  like  Jove,  hurled 
the  lightning  of  heaven  in  his  right  hand?  Is  he  not 
an  unpunished  Prometheus?  Is  he  not  breaking  the 
scepter  of  a  tyrant?' 

"Going  back  to  his  home  where  in  the  kindness  of 
his  heart  he  had  asked  me  to  live,  he  endeavored,  mod- 
estly, to  explain  the  evidences  of  high  regard  which 
were  being  showered  upon  him. 

"  'It  happens  that  my  understanding  and  small  con- 
trol of  a  mysterious  and  violent  force  of  nature  has 
appealed  to  the  imagination  of  these  people,'  he  said. 


324     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

'I  am  the  only  man  who  has  used  thunderbolts-  for  his 
playthings.  Then,  too,  I  am  speaking  for  a  new  world 
to  an  old  one.  Just  at  present  I  am  the  voice  of  Hu- 
man Liberty.  I  represent  the  hunger  of  the  spirit  of 
man.  It  is  very  strong  here.  You  have  not  traveled 
so  far  in  France  without  seeing  thousands  of  beggars. 
They  are  everywhere.  But  you  do  not  know  that  when 
a  child  comes  in  a  poor  family,  the  father  and  mother 
go  to  prison  pow  mois  de  nourrice.  It  is  a  pity  that 
the  poor  can  not  keep  their  children  at  home.  This  old 
kingdom  is  a  muttering  Vesuvius,  growing  hotter, 
year  by  year,  with  discontent.  You  will  presently 
hear  its  voices.' ' 

There  was  a  dinner  that  evening  at  Franklin's 
house,  at  which  the  Marquis  de  Mirabeau,  M.  Turgot, 
the  Madame  de  Brillon,  the  Abbe  Raynal  and  the 
Compte  and  Comptesse  d'  Haudetot,  Colonel  Irons  and 
three  other  American  gentlemen  were  present.  The 
Madame  de  Brillon  was  first  to  arrive.  She  entered 
with  a  careless,  jaunty  air  and  ran  to  meet  Franklin 
and  caught  his  hand  and  gave  him  a  double  kiss  on 
each  cheek  and  one  on  his  forehead  and  called  him 
"papa." 

"At  table  she  sat  between  me  and  Doctor  Franklin," 
Jack  writes.  "She  frequently  locked  her  hand  in  the 
Doctor's  and  smiled  sweetly  as  she  looked  into  his 
eyes.  I  wonder  what  the  poor,  simple,  hard-working 
Deborah  Franklin  wrould  have  thought  of  these  famil- 
iarities. Yet  here,  I  am  told,  no  one  thinks  ill  of  that 
kind  of  thing.  The  best  women  of  France  seem  to 


IN  FRANCE  WITH  FRANKLIN         325 

treat  their  favorites  with  like  tokens  of  regard.  Now 
and  then  she  spread  her  arms  across  the  backs  of  our 
chairs,  as  if  she  would  have  us  feel  that  her  affection 
was  wide  enough  for  both. 

"She  assured  me  that  all  the  women  of  France  were 
in  love  with  le  grand  savant. 

"Franklin,  hearing  the  compliment,  remarked :  'It 
is  because  they  pity  my  age  and  infirmities.  First  we 
pity,  then  embrace,  as  the  great  Mr.  Pope  has  written.' 

( 'We  think  it  a  compliment  that  the  greatest  intel- 
lect in  the  world  is  willing  to  allow  itself  to  be,  in  a 
way,  captured  by  the  charms  of  women/  Madame  Bril- 
lon  declared. 

"  'My  beautiful  friend!     You  are  too  generous,'  the 
Doctor  continued  with  a  laugh.     'If  the  greatest  man 
were  really  to  come  to  Paris  and  lose  his  heart,  I  . 
should  know  where  to  find  it.' 

"The  Doctor  speaks  an  imperfect  and  rather  broken 
French,  but  these  people  seem  to  find  it  all  the  more 
interesting  on  that  account.  Probably  to  them  it  is 
like  the  English  which  we  have  heard  in  America  from 
the  lips  of  certain  Frenchmen.  How  fortunate  it  is 
that  I  learned  to  speak  the  language  of  France  in  my 
boyhood ! 

"From  the  silver-tongued  Mirabeau  I  got  further 
knowledge  of  Franklin,  with  which  I,  his  friend  and 
fellow  countryman,  should  have  been  acquainted,  save 
that  the  sacrifices  of  the  patriot  are  as  common  as 
mother's  milk  and  cause  little  comment  among  us.  The 
great  orator  was  expected  to  display  his  talents,  if 


326     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

there  were  any  excuse  for  it,  wherever  he  might  be,  so 
the  ladies  set  up  a  demand  for  a  toast.  He  spoke  of 
Franklin,  The  Thrifty  Prodigal,'  saying : 

"  'He  saves  only  to  give.  There  never  was  such  a 
squanderer  of  his  own  immeasurable  riches.  For  his 
great  inventions  and  discoveries  he  has  never  received 
a  penny.  Twice  he  has  put  his  personal  fortune  at  the 
disposal  of  his  country.  Once  when  he  paid  the  farm- 
ers for  their  horses  and  wagons  to  transport  supplies 
for  the  army  of  Braddock,  and  again  when  he  offered 
to  pay  for  the  tea  which  was  thrown  into  Boston 
Harbor/ 

"The  great  man  turned  to  me  and  added : 

"  'I  have  learned  of  these  things,  not  from  him,  but 
from  others  who  know  the  truth,  and  we  We  him  in 
France  because  we  are  aware  that  he  is  working  for 
Human  Liberty  and  not  for  himself  or  for  any  greedy 
despot  in  the  west.' 

"It  is  all  so  true,  yet  in  America  nothing  has  bee'n 
said  of  this. 

"As  the  dinner  proceeded  the  Abbe  Raynal  asked 
the  Doctor  if  it  was  true  that  there  were  signs  of  de- 
generacy in  the  average  male  American. 

"  'Let  the  facts  before  us  be  my  answer,"  said 
Franklin.  There  are  at  this  table  four  Frenchmen 
and  four  Americans.  Let  these  gentlemen  stand  up.' 

"The  Frenchmen  were  undersized,  the  Abbe  himself 
being  a  mere  shrimp  of  a  man.  The  Americans,  Car- 
michael,  Harmer,  Humphries  and  myself,  were  big 


IN  FRANCE  WITH  FRANKLIN         327 

men,  the  shortest  being  six  feet  tall.  The  contrast 
raised  a  laugh  among  the  ladies.  Then  said  Franklin 
in  his  kindest  tones : 

1  'My  dear  Abbe,  I  am  aware  that  manhood  is  not  a 
matter  of  feet  and  inches.  I  only  assure  you  that 
these  are  average  Americans  and  that  they  are  pretty 
well  filled  with  brain  and  spirit/ 

"The  Abbe  spoke  of  a  certain  printed  story  on  which 
he  had  based  his  judgment. 

"Franklin  laughed  and  answered:  'I  know  that  is 
a  fable,  because  I  wrote  it  myself  one  day,  long  ago, 
when  we  were  short  of  news/  ' 

The  guests  having  departed,  Franklin  asked  the 
young  man  to  sit  down  for  a  talk  by  the  fireside.  The 
Doctor  spoke  of  the  women  of  France,  saying : 

'You  will  not  understand  them  or  me  unless  you  re- 
mind yourself  that  we  are  in  Europe  and  that  it  is  the 
eighteenth  century.  Here  the  clocks  are  lagging. 
Time  moves  slowly.  With  the  poor  it  stands  still. 
They  know  not  the  thing  we  call  progress/ 

'  'Those  who  have  money  seem  to  be  very  busy 
having  fun,-  I  said. 

"  There  is  no  morning  to  their  day,'  he  went  on. 
'Their  dawn  is  noontime.  Our  kind  of  people  have 
had  longer  days  and  have  used  them  wisely.  So  we 
have  pushed  on  ahead  of  this  European  caravan.  Our 
fathers  in  New  England  made  a  great  discovery/ 

"What  was  it?'  I  asked. 

"  'That  righteousness  was  not  a  joke ;  that  Chris- 


328     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

tianity  was  not  a  solemn  plaything  for  one  day  in  the 
week,  but  a  real,  practical,  working  proposition  for 
every  day  in  the  year;  that  the  main  support  of  the 
structure  is  industry;  that  its  most  vital  command- 
ment is  this,  "six  days  shalt  thou  labor" ;  that  no 
amount  of  wealth  can  excuse  a  man  from  this  duty. 
Every  one  worked.  There  was  no  idleness  and  there- 
fore little  poverty.  The  days  were  all  for  labor  and 
the  nights  for  rest.  The  wheels  of  progress  were 
greased  and  moving.' 

"  'And  our  love  of  learning  helped  to  push  them 
along,'  I  suggested. 

!  'True.  Our  people  have  been  mostly  like  you  and 
me,'  he  went  on.  'We  long  for  knowledge  of  the  truth. 
We  build  schools  and  libraries  and  colleges.  We  have 
pushed  on  out  of  the  eighteenth  century  into  a  new 
time.  There  you  were  born.  Now  you  have  stepped 
a  hundred  years  backward  into  Europe.  You  are 
astonished,  and  this  brings  me  to  my  point.  Here  I 
am  with  a  great  task  on  my  hands.  It  is  to  enlist  the 
sympathy  and  help  of  France.  I  must  take  things, 
not  as  I  could  wish  them  to  be,  but  as  I  find  them.  At 
this  court  women  are  all  powerful.  It  has  long  been  a 
maxim  here  that  a  diplomatist  must  stand. well  with 
the  ladies.  Even  though  he  is  venerable,  he  must  be 
gallant,  and  I  do  not  use  the  word  in  a  shady  sense. 
The  ladies  are  not  so  bad  as  you  would  think  them. 
They  are  playthings.  To  them,  life  is  not  as  we  know 
it,  filled  with  realities.  It  is  a  beautiful  drama  of  rich 


IN  FRANCE  WITH  FRANKLIN         329 

costumes  and  painted  scenes  and  ingenious  words,  all 
set  in  the  atmosphere  of  romance.  The  players  only 
pretend  to  believe  each  other.  In  the  salon  I  am  one 
of  these  players.  I  have  to  be.' 

"  'Mirabeau  seemed  to  mean  what  he  said/  was  my 
answer. 

"  'Yes.  He  is  one  of  those  who  often  speak  from 
the  heart.  All  these  players  love  the  note  of  sincerity 
when  they  hear  it.  In  the  salon  it  is  out  of  key,  but 
away  from  the  ladies  the  men  are  often  living  and  not 
playing.  Mirabeau,  Condorcet,  Turgot  and  others 
have  heard  the  call  of  Human  Liberty.  Often  they 
come  to  this  house  and  speak  out  with  a  strong  can- 
dor.' 

'  'I  suppose  that  this  great  drama  of  despotism  in 
France  will  end  in  a  tragedy  whose  climax  will  con- 
sume the  stage  and  half  the  players,'  I  ventured  to  say. 

"  'That  is  a  theme,  Jack,  on  which  you  and  I  must 
be  silent,'  Franklin  answered.  'We  must  hold  our 
mouths  as  with  a  bridle.' 

"For  a  moment  he  sat  looking  sadly  into  the  glow- 
ing coals  on  the  grate.  Franklin  loved  to  talk,  but  no 
one  could  better  keep  his  own  counsel. 

"  'At  heart  I  am  no  revolutionist,'  he  said  pres- 
ently. 'I  believe  in  purifying — not  in  breaking  down. 
I  would  to  God  that  I  could  have  convinced  the  British 
of  their  error.  Mainly  I  am  with  the  prophet  who 
says: 

"  '  "Stand  in  the  old  ways.  View  the  ancient  paths. 


330     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Consider  them  well  and  be  not  among  those  who  are 
given  to  change." 

"I  sat  for  a  moment  thinking  of  the  cruelties  I  had 
witnessed,  and  asking  myself  if  it  had  been  really 
worth  while.  Franklin  interrupted  my  thoughts. 

"  'I  wish  we  could  discover  a  plan  which  would  in- 
duce and  compel  nations  to  settle  their  differences 
without  cutting  each  other's  throats.  When  will  hu- 
man wisdom  be  sufficient  to  see  the  advantage  of  this  ?' 

"He  told  me  the  thrilling  details  of  his  success  in 
France;  how  he  had  won  the  kingdom  for  an  ally  and 
secured  loans  and  the  help  of  a  fleet  and  army  then  on 
the  sea. 

'  'And  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
British  have  been  sounding  me  to  see  if  we  would  be 
base  enough  to  abandon  our  ally,'  he  laughed. 
"In  a  moment  he  added: 

'  'Come,  it  is  late  and  you  must  write  a  letter  to  the 
heart  of  England  before  you  lie  down  to  rest.' 

"Often  thereafter  he  spoke  of  Margaret  as  'the 
heart  of  England/  " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   PAGEANT 

JACK  began  to  assist  Franklin  in  his  correspondence 
and  in  the  many  business  details  connected  with  his 
mission. 

"I  have  never  seen  a  man  with  a  like  capacity  for 
work,"  the  young  officer  writes.  "Every  day  he  is 
conferring  with  Vergennes  or  other  representatives  of 
the  King,  or  with  the  ministers  of  Spain,  Holland  and 
Great  Britain.  The  greatest  intellect  in  the  kingdom 
is  naturally  in  great  request.  To-day,  after  many  hours 
of  negotiation  with  the  Spanish  minister,  in  came  M. 
Dubourg,  the  most  distinguished  physician  in  Eurone. 

"  'Mon  chere  maitre,'  he  said.  'I  have  a  most  diffi- 
cult case  and  as  you  know  more  about  the  human  body 
than  any  man  of  my  acquaintance  I  wish  to  confer 
with  you/ 

"Yesterday,  Doctor  Ingenhauz,  physician  to  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria,  came  to  consult  him  regarding  the 
vaccination  of  the  royal  family  of  France. 

"In  the  evening,  M.  Robespierre,  a  slim,  dark- 
skinned,  studious  young  attorney  from  Arras,  wear- 
ing gold-rimmed  spectacles,  came  for  information 
regarding  lightning  rods,  he  having  doubts  of  their  le- 
gality. While  they  were  talking,  M.  Joseph  Ignace 
Guillotin,  another  physician,  arrived.  He  was  looking 

331 


332     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

for  advice  regarding  a  proposed  new  method  of  capital 
punishment,  and  wished  to  know  if,  in  the  Doctor's 
opinion,  a  painless  death  could  be  produced  by  quickly 
severing  the  head  from  the  body.  Next  morning,  M. 
Jourdan,  with  hair  and  beard  as  red  as  the  flank  of 
my  bay  mare  and  a  loud  voice,  came  soon  after  break- 
fast, to  sell  us  mules  by  the  ship  load. 

"So  you  see  that  even  I,  living  in  his  home  and  see- 
ing him  almost  every  hour  of  the  day,  have  little 
chance  to  talk  with  him.  Last  night  we  met  M.  Vol- 
taire— dramatist  and  historian — now  in  the  evening 
of  his  days.  We  were  at  the  Academy,  where  we  had 
gone  to  hear  an  essay  by  D'Alembert.  Franklin  and 
Voltaire — a  very  thin  old  gentleman  of  eighty-four, 
with  piercing  black  eyes — sat  side  by  side  on  the 
platform.  The  audience  demanded  that  the  two  great 
men  should  come  forward  and  salute  each  other.  They 
arose  and  advanced  and  shook  hands. 

"  'A  la  Frangaise,'  the  crowd  demanded. 

"So  the  two  white-haired  men  embraced  and  kissed 
each  other  amidst  loud  applause. 

"We  are  up  at  sunrise  and  at  breakfast,  for  half  an 
hour  or  so,  I  have  him  to  myself.  Then  we  take  a 
little  walk  in  the  palace  grounds  of  M.  le  Ray  de 
Chaumont,  Chief  Forester  of  the  kingdom,  which  ad- 
joins us.  To  the  Count's  generosity  Franklin  is  in- 
debted for  the  house  we  live  in.  The  Doctor  loves  to 
have  me  with  him  in  the  early  morning.  He  says 
breakfasting  alone  is  the  most  triste  of  all  occupations. 


THE  PAGEANT  333 

"  'I  think  that  the  words  of  Demosthenes  could  not 
have  been  more  sought  than  yours/  I  said  to  him  at 
breakfast  this  morning. 

"He  laughed  as  he  answered :  'Demosthenes  said 
that  the  first  point  in  speaking  was  action.  Probably 
he  meant  the  action  which  preceded  the  address — a 
course  of  it  which  had  impressed  people  with  the  in- 
tegrity and  understanding  of  the  speaker.  For  years  I 
have  had  what  Doctor  Johnson  would  call  "a  wise  and 
noble  curiosity"  about  nature  and  have  had  some  suc- 
cess in  gratifying  it.  Then,  too,  I  have  tried  to  order 
my  life  so  that  no  man  could  say  that  Ben  Franklin 
had  intentionally  done  him  a  wrong.  So  I  suppose 
that  my  words  are  entitled  to  a  degree  of  respect — a 
far  more  limited  degree  than  the  French  are  good 
enough  to  accord  them.' 

"As  we  were  leaving  the  table  he  said :  'Jack,  I 
have  an  idea  worthy  of  Demosthenes.  My  friend, 
David  Hartley  of  London,  who  still  has  hope  of  peace 
by  negotiation,  wishes  to  come  over  and  confer  with 
me.  I  shall  tell  him  that  he  may  come  if  he  will  bring 
with  him  the  Lady  Hare  and  her  daughter.' 

"  'More  thrilling  words  were  never  spoken  by  De- 
mosthenes,' I  answered.  'But  how  about  Jones  and 
his  Bonne  Homme  Richard?  He  is  now  a  terror  to 
the  British  coasts.  They  would  fear  destruction.' 

"  'I  shall  ask  Jones  to  let  them  alone,'  he  said.  'They 
can  come  under  a  special  flag.' 

"Commodore  Jones  did  not  appear  again  in  Paris 


334     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

until  October,  when  he  came  to  Passy  to  report  upon 
a  famous  battle. 

"I  was  eager  to  meet  this  terror  of  the  coasts.  His 
impudent  courage  and  sheer  audacity  had  astonished 
the  world.  The  wonder  was  that  men  were  willing  to 
join  him  in  such  dare  devil  enterprises. 

"I  had  imagined  that  Jones  would  be  a  tall,  gaunt, 
swarthy,  raw-boned,  swearing  man  of  the  sea.  He 
was  a  sleek,  silent,  modest  little  man,  with  delicate 
hands  and  features.  He  wished  to  be  alone  with  the 
Doctor,  and  so  I  did  not  hear  their  talk.  I  know  that 
he  needed  money  and  that  Franklin,  having,  no  funds, 
provided  the  sea  fighter  from  his  own  purse. 

"Commodore  Jones  had  brought  with  him  a  cart- 
load of  mail  from  captured  British  ships.  In  it  were 
letters  to  me  from  Margaret. 

"  'Now  you  are  near  me  and  yet  there  is  an  impass- 
able gulf  between  us/  she  wrote.  'We  hear  that  the 
seas  are  overrun  with  pirates  and  that  no  ship  is  safe. 
Our  vessels  are  being  fired  upon  and  sunk.  I  would 
not  mind  being  captured  by  a  good  Yankee  captain,  if 
it  were  carefully  done.  But  cannons  are  so  noisy  and 
impolite!  I  have  a  lot  of  British  pluck  in  me,  but  I 
fear  that  you  would  not  like  to  marry  a  girl  who 
limped  because  she  had  been  shot  in  the  war.  And, 
just  think  of  the  possible  effect  on  my  disposition.  So 
before  we  start  Doctor  Franklin  will  have  to  promise 
not  to  fire  his  cannons  at  us.' 


THE  PAGEANT  335 

"I  showed  the  letter  to  Franklin  and  he  laughed  and 
said: 

"  They  will  be  treated  tenderly.  The  Commodore 
will  convoy  them  across  the  channel.  I  shall  assure 
Hartley  of  that  in  a  letter  which  will  go  forward  to- 
day.' 

"Anxious  days  are  upon  us.  Our  money  in  America 
has  become  almost  worthless  and  we  are  in  extreme 
need  of  funds  to  pay  and  equip  the  army.  We  are 
daily  expecting  a  loan  from  the  King  of  three  million 
livres.  But  Vergennes  has  made  it  clear  to  us  that  the 
government  of  France  is  itself  in  rather  desperate 
straits.  The  loan  has  been  approved,  but  the  treasury 
is  waiting  upon  certain  taxes  not  yet  collected.  The 
moment  the  money  is  available  the  Prime  Minister 
will  inform  us  of  the  fact. 

"On  a  fine  autumn  day  we  drove  with  the  Prince 
of  Conde  in  his  great  coach,  ornamented  with  costly 
paintings,  to  spend  a  day  at  his  country  seat  in  Chan- 
tilly.  The  palace  was  surrounded  by  an  artificial 
canal;  the  gardens  beautified  with  ponds  and  streams 
and  islands  and  cascades  and  grottos  and  labyrinths, 
the  latter  adorned  with  graceful  sculptures.  His 
stables  were  lined  with  polished  woods ;  their  windows 
covered  with  soft  silk  curtains.  Of  such  a  refinement 
of  luxury  I  had  never  dreamed.  Having  seen  at  least 
a  thousand  beggars  on  the  way,  I  was  saddened  by 
these  rich,  lavish  details  of  a  prince's  self-indulgence. 


336     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"On  the  wish  of  our  host,  Franklin  had  taken  with 
him  a  part  of  his  electrical  apparatus,  with  which  he 
amused  a  large  company  of  the  friends  of  the  great 
Seigneur  in  his  palace  grounds.  Spirits  were  fired  by  a 
spark  sent  from  one  pond  to  another  with  no  conductor 
but  the  water  of  a  stream.  The  fowls  for  dinner  were 
slain  by  electrical  shocks  and  cooked  over  a  fire  kindled 
by  a  current  from  an  electrical  bottle.  At  the  table 
the  success  of  America  was  toasted  in  electrified 
bumpers  with  an  accompaniment  of  guns  fired  by  an 
electrical  battery. 

"A  poet  had  written  a  Chanson  a  Boire  to  Franklin, 
which  was  read  and  merrily  applauded  at  the  dinner — - 
one  stanza  of  which  ran  as  follows : 

"  lTouty  en  fondant  un  empire \ 
Vous  le  voyez  boire  et  rire 
Le  verre  en  main 
Chant ons  notre  Benjamin.3 

"To  illustrate  the  honest  candor  with  which  often 
he  speaks,  even  in  the  presence  of  Frenchmen  who  are 
near  the  throne,  I  quote  a  few  words  from  his  brief 
address  to  the  Prince  and  his  friends : 

"  'A  good  part  of  my  life  I  have  worked  with  my 
hands.  If  Your  Grace  will  allow  me  to  say  so,  I  wish 
to  see  in  France  a  deeper  regard  for  the  man  who 
works  with  his  hands — the  man  who  supplies  food. 
He  really  furnishes  the  standard  of  all  value.  The 
value  of  everything  depends  on  the  labor  given  to  the 


THE  PAGEANT  337 

making  of  it.  If  the  labor  in  producing  a  bushel  of 
wheat  is  the  same  as  that  consumed  in  the  production 
of  an  ounce  of  silver,  their  value  is  the  same. 

"  'The  food  maker  also  supplies  a  country  with  its 
population.  By  1900  he  will  have  given  to  America  a 
hundred  million  people  and  a  power  and  prosperity 
beyond  our  reckoning.  Frugality  and  Industry  are 
the  most  fruitful  of  parents,  especially  where  they  are 
respected.  When  luxury  and  the  cost  of  living  have 
increased,,  people  have  become  more  cautious  about 
marriage  and  populations  have  begun  to  dwindle.' 

'The  Bourbon  Prince,  a  serious-minded  man,  felt 

the  truth  of  all  this  and  was  at  pains  to  come  to  my 

venerable  friend  and  heartily  express  his  appreciation. 

'  'We  know  that  we  are  in  a  bad  way,  but  we  know 

not  how  to  get  out  of  it,'  he  said. 

"The  Princess,  who  sat  near  us  at  table,  asked  the 
Doctor  for  information  about  the  American  woman. 

"She  riseth  while  it  is  yet  night  and  giveth  meat 
to  her  household,  and  a  portion  to  her  maidens,"  '  he 
quoted.  'She  is  apt  to  be  more  industrious  than  her 
husband.  She  works  all  day  and  often  a  part  of  the 
night.  She  is  weaver,  knitter,  spinner,  tailor,  cook, 
washerwoman,  teacher,  doctor,  nurse.  While  she  is 
awake  her  hands  are  never  idle,  and  their  most  impor- 
tant work  is  that  of  slowly  building  up  the  manhood  of 
America.  Ours  is  to  be  largely  a  mother-made  land.' 
'  (Mon  Dieu!  I  should  think  she  would  be  cross 
with  so  much  to  do,'  said  the  Princess. 


338     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"  'Often  she  is  a  little  cross,'  Franklin  answered. 
'My  friend,  James  Otis  of  Massachusetts,  complained 
of  the  fish  one  day  at  dinner  when  there  was  company 
at  the  table.  Mrs.  Otis  frankly  expressed  her  opinion 
of  his  bad  manners.  He  was  temperamental  and  him- 
self a  bit  overworked.  He  made  no  answer,  but  in  the 
grace  which  followed  the  meal  he  said : 

"  '  "O  Lord,  we  thank  Thee  that  we  have  been  able 
to  finish  this  dinner  without  getting  slapped." 

"  'But  I  would  ask  Your  Highness  to  believe  that  our 
men  are  mostly  easier  to  get  along  with.  They  do  not 
often  complain  of  the  food.  They  are  more  likely  to 
praise  it.' 

"On  our  way  back  to  Paris  the  Doctor  said  to  me : 

"  'The  great  error  of  Europe  is  entailment — entailed 
estates,  entailed  pride,  entailed  luxury,  entailed  con- 
ceit. A  boy  who  inherits  honor  will  rarely  honor  him- 
self. I  like  the  method  of  China,  where  honor  ascends, 
but  does  not  descend.  It  goes  back  to  his  parents  who 
taught  him  his  virtues.  It  can  do  no- harm  to  his  par- 
ents, but  it  can  easily  ruin  him  and  his  children.  I  re- 
gard humility  as  one  of  the  greatest  virtues." 

2 

"That  evening  our  near  neighbors,  Le  Compte  de 
Chaumont  and  M.  LeVilleard,  came  to  announce  that 
a  dinner  and  ball  in  honor  of  Franklin  would  occur  at 
the  palace  of  Compte  de  Chaumont  less  than  a  week 
later. 

"  'My  good  friends,'  said  the  philosopher,  'I  value 


THE  PAGEANT  339 

these  honors  which  are  so  graciously  offered  me,  but  I 
am  old  and  have  much  work  to  do.  I  need  rest  more 
than  I  need  the  honors.' 

"  'It  is  one  of  the  penalties  of  being  a  great  savant 
that  people  wish  to  see  and  know  him/  said  the  Count. 
'The  most  distinguished  people  in  France  will  be 
among  those  who  do  you  honor.  I  think,  if  you  can 
recall  a  talk  we  had  some  weeks  ago,  you  will  wish 
to  be  present.' 

"  'Oh,  then,  you  have  heard  from  the  Hornet.' 

"  'I  have  a  letter  here  which  you  may  read  at  your 
convenience.' 

"  'My  dear  friend,  be  pleased  to  receive  my  apolo- 
gies and  my  hearty  thanks,'  said  Franklin.  'Not  even 
the  gout  could  keep  me  away.' 

"Next  day  I  received  a  formal  invitation  to  the  din- 
ner and  ball.  I  told  the  Doctor  that  in  view  of  the- 
work  to  be  done,  I  would  decline  the  invitation.  He 
begged  me  not  to  do  it  and  insisted  that  he  was  count- 
ing upon  me  to  represent  the  valor  and  chivalry  of  the 
New  World ;  that  as  I  had  grown  into  the  exact  stature 
of  Washington  and  was  so  familiar  writh  his  manners 
and  able  to  imitate  them  in  conversation,  he  wished 
me  to  assume  the  costume  of  our  Commander-in- 
Chief.  He  did  me  the  honor  to  say : 

"  'There  is  no  other  man  whom  it  would  be  safe  to 
trust  in  such  an  exalted  role.  I  wish,  as  a  favor  to 
me,  you  would  see  what  can  be  done  at  the  costumer's 
and  let  me  have  a  look  at  you.' 


340     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  did  as  he  wished.  The  result  was  an  astonishing 
likeness.  I  dressed  as  I  had  seen  the  great  man  in  the 
field.  I  wore  a  wig  slightly  tinged  with  gray,  a  blue 
coat,  buff  waistcoat  and  sash  and  sword  and  the  top 
boots  and  spurs.  When  I  strode  across  the  room  in  the 
masterly  fashion  of  our  great  Commander,  the  Doctor 
clapped  his  hands. 

'You  are  as  like  him  as  one  pea  is  like  another !' 
he  exclaimed.  'Nothing  would  so  please  our  good 
friends,  the  French,  who  have  an  immense  curiosity 
regarding  Le  Grand  Vasanton,  and  it  will  give  me 
an  opportunity  to  instruct  them  as  to  our  spirit.' 

"He  went  to  his  desk  and  took  from  a  drawer  a 
cross  of  jeweled  gold  on  a  long  necklace  of  silver — a 
gift  from  the  King — and  put  it  over  my  head  so  that 
the  cross  shone  upon  my  breast. 

f  'That  is  for  the  faith  of  our  people,'  he  declared. 
'The  guests  will  assemble  on  the  grounds  of  the  Count 
late  in  the  afternoon.  You  will  ride  among  them  on  a 
white  horse.  A  beautiful  maiden  in  a  white  robe  held 
at  the  waist  with  a  golden  girdle  will  receive  you.  She 
will  be  Human  Liberty.  You  will  dismount  and  kneel 
and  kiss  her  hand.  Then  the  Prime  Minister  of 
France  will  give  to  each  a  blessing  and  to  you  a  sword 
and  a  purse.  You  will  hold  them  up  and  say : 

"  '  "For  these  things  I  promise  you  the  friendship  of 
my  people  and  their  prosperity." 

"  'You  will  kiss  the  sword  and  hang  it  beside  your 


THE  PAGEANT  341 

own  and  pass  the  purse  to  me  and  then  I  shall  have 
something  to  say/ 

"So  it  was  all  done,  but  with  thrilling  details,  of 
which  no  suspicion  had  come  to  me.  I  had  not 
dreamed,  for  instance,  that  the  King  and  Queen  would 
be  present  and  that  the  enthusiasm  would  be  so  great 
You  will  be  able  to  judge  of  my  surprise  when,  riding 
my  white  horse  through  the  cheering  crowd,  throwing 
flowers  in  my  way,  I  came  suddenly  upon  Margaret 
Hare  in  the  white  robe  of  Human  Liberty.  Now  fac- 
ing me  after  these  years  of  trial,  her  spirit  was  equal 
to  her  part.  She  was  like  unto  the  angel  I  had  seen 
in  my  dreams.  The  noble  look  of  her  face  thrilled  me. 
It  was  not  so  easy  to  maintain  the  calm  dignity  of 
Washington  in  that  moment.  I  wanted  to  lift  her  in 
my  arms  and  hold  her  there,  as  you  may  well  believe, 
but,  alas,  I  was  Washington!  I  dismounted  and  fell 
upon  one  knee  before  her  and  kissed  her  hand  not  too 
fervently,  I  would  have  you  know,  in  spite  of  my  temp- 
tation. She  stood  erect,  although  tears  were  streaming 
down  her  cheeks  and  her  dear  hand  trembled  when  it 
rested  on  my  brow  and  she  could  only  whisper  the 
words : 

'  'May  the  God  of  your  fathers  aid  and  keep  you.' 
"The  undercurrent  of  restrained  emotion  in  this  lit- 
tle scene  went  out  to  that  crowd,  which  represented 
the  wealth,  beauty  and  chivalry  of  France.     I  suppose 
that  some  of  them  thought  it  a  bit  of  good  acting. 


342     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

These  people  love  the  drama  as  no  others  love  it.  I 
suspect  that  many  of  the  friends  of  Franklin  knew  that 
she  who  was  Liberty  was  indeed  my  long  lost  love.  A 
deep  silence  fell  upon  them  and  then  arose  a  wild 
shout  of  approval  that  seemed  to  come  out  of  the  very 
heart  of  France  and  to  be  warm  with  its  noble  ardor. 
Every  one  in  this  beautiful  land — even  the  King  and 
Queen  and  their  kin — are  thinking  of  Liberty  and  have 
begun  to  long  for  her  blessing.  That,  perhaps,  is  why 
the  scene  had  so  impressed  them. 

"But  we  were  to  find  in  this  little  drama  a  climax 
wholly  unexpected  by  either  of  us  and  of  an  impor- 
tance to  our  country  which  I  try  in  vain  to  estimate. 
When  the  Prime  Minister  handed  the  purse  to  Frank- 
lin he  bade  him  open  it.  This  the  latter  did,  finding 
therein  letters  of  credit  for  the  three  million  livres 
granted,  of  which  we  were  in  sore  need.  With  it  was 
the  news  that  a  ship  would  be  leaving  Boulogne  in  the 
morning  and  that  relays  on  the  way  had  been  provided 
for  his  messenger.  The  invention  of  our  beloved  dip- 
lomat was  equal  to  the  demand  of  the  moment  and  so 
he  announced : 

c  'Washington  is  like  his  people.  He  turns  from  all 
the  loves  of  this  world  to  obey  the  call  of  duty.  My 
young  friend  who  has  so  well  presented  the  look  and 
manner  of  Washington  will  now  show  you  his  spirit.' 

"He  looked  at  his  watch  and  added : 

"  'Within  forty  minutes  he  will  be  riding  post  to 
Boulogne,  there  to  take  ship  for  America.' 


THE  PAGEANT  343 

"So  here  I  am  on  the  ship  L'Etoile  and  almost  in 
sight  of  Boston  harbor,  bringing  help  and  comfort  to 
our  great  Chief. 

"I  was  presented  to  the  King  and  Queen.  Of  him  I 
have  written — a  stout,  fat-faced  man,  highly  colored, 
with  a  sloping  forehead  and  large  gray  eyes.  His  coat 
shone  with  gold  embroidery  and  jeweled  stars.  His 
close-fitting  waistcoat  of  milk  white  satin  had  golden 
buttons  and  a  curve  which  was  not  the  only  sign  he 
bore  of  rich  wine  and  good  capon.  The  queen  was  a 
beautiful,  dark-haired  lady  of  some  forty  years,  with 
a  noble  and  gracious  countenance.  She  was  clad  in 
no  vesture  of  gold,  but  in  sober  black  velvet.  Her  curls 
fell  upon  the  loose  ruff  of  lace  around  her  neck.  There 
were  no  jewels  on  or  about  her  bare,  white  bosom. 
Her  smile  and  gentle  voice,  when  she  gave  me  her  bon- 
voyage  and  best  wishes  for  the  cause  so  dear  to  us,  are 
jewels  I  shall  not  soon  forget. 

"Yes,  I  had  a  little  talk  with  Margaret  and  her 
mother,  who  walked  with  me  to  Franklin's  house. 
There,  in  his  reception  room,  I  took  a  good  look  at  the 
dear  girl,  now  more  beautiful  than  ever,  and  held  her 
to  my  heart  a  moment. 

"  'I  see  you  and  then  I  have  to  go/  I  said. 

"  'It  is  the  fault  of  my  too  romantic  soul/  she  an- 
swered mournfully.  'For  two  days  we  have  been  in 
hiding  here.  I  wanted  to  surprise  you/ 

"And  this  protest  came  involuntarily  from  my  lips : 

"  'Here  now  is   the  happiness   for   which   I   have 


344     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

longed,  and  yet  forthwith  I  must  leave  it.     What  a 
mystery  is  the  spirit  of  man !' 

"  'When  it  is  linked  to  the  spirit  of  God  it  ceases  to 
understand  itself,'  she  answered.  'Oh,  that  I  had  the 
will  for  sacrifice  which  is  in  you!' 

"She  lifted  the  jeweled  cross  I  wore  to  her  lips  and 
kissed  it.  I  wish  that  I  could  tell*  you  how  beautiful 
she  looked  then.  She  is  twenty-six  years  old  and 
her  womanhood  is  beginning. 

"  'Now  you  may  go,'  she  said.  'My  heart' goes  with 
you,  but  I  fear  that  we  shall  not  meet  again.' 

"  'Why  ?'  was  my  question. 

"  'I  am  utterly  discouraged.' 

'You   can  not   expect  her  to   wait   for   you   any 
longer.    It  is  not  fair,'  said  her  mother. 

"  'Margaret,  I  do  not  ask  you  to  wait,'  I  said.  'I  am 
not  quite  a  human  being.  I  seem  to  have  no  time  for 
that.  I  am  of  the  army  of  God.  I  shall  not  expect 
you  to  wait.' 

"So  it  befell  that  the  stern,  strong  hand  of  a  soldier's 
duty  drew  me  from  her  presence  almost  as  soon  as  we 
had  met.  I  kissed  her  and  left  her  weeping,  for  there 
was  need  of  haste.  Soon  I  was  galloping  out  of  Passy 
on  my  way  to  the  land  I  love.  I  try  not  to  think  of 
her,  but  how  can  I  put  out  of  mind  the  pathos  of  that 
moment?  Whenever  I  close  my  eyes  I  see  her  beau- 
tiful figure  sitting  with  bowed  head  in  the  twilight." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  WHICH  APPEARS  THE  HORSE  OF  DESTINY  AND  THE 
JUDAS  OF  WASHINGTON'S  ARMY 

IN  Boston  harbor,  Jack  learned  of  the  evacuation 
of  Philadelphia  by  the  British  and  was  transferred  to 
a  Yankee  ship  putting  out  to  sea  on  its  way  to  that 
city.  There  he  found  the  romantic  Arnold,  crippled 
by  his  wounds,  living  in  the  fine  mansion  erected  by 
William  Penn.  He  had  married  a  young  daughter 
of  one  of  the  rich  Tory  families,  for  his  second  wife, 
and  was  in  command  of  the  city.  Colonel  Irons, 
having  delivered  the  letters  to  the  Treasurer  of  the 
United  States,  reported  at  Arnold's  office.  It  was 
near  midday  and  the  General  had  not  arrived.'  The 
young  man  sat  down  to  wait  and  soon  the  great 
soldier  drove  up  with  his  splendid  coach  and  pair. 
His  young  wife  sat  beside  him.  He  had  little  time 
for  talk.  He  was  on  his  way  to  breakfast.  Jack 
presented  his  compliments  and  the  good  tidings 
which  he  had  brought  from  the  Old  Country.  Arnold 
listened  as  if  he  were  hearing  the  price  of  codfish  and 
hams. 

The  young  man  was  shocked  by  the  coolness  of  the 
Commandant.  The  former  felt  as  if  a  pail  of  icy 
water  had  been  thrown  upon  him  when  Arnold 
answered : 

345 


346     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"Now  that  they  have  money  I  hope  that  they  will 
pay  their  debt  to  me." 

This  kind  of  talk  Jack  had  not  heard  before.  He 
resented  it  but  answered  calmly:  "A  war  and  an 
army  is  a  great  extravagance  for  a  young  nation  that 
has  not  yet  learned  the  imperial  art  of  gathering  taxes. 
Many  of  us  are  going  unpaid  but  if  we  get  liberty  it 
will  be  worth  all  it  costs." 

"That  sounds  well  but  there  are  some  of  us  who 
are  also  in  need  of  justice,"  Arnold  answered  as  he 
turned  away. 

"General,  you  who  have  not  beer  dismayed  by  force 
will  never,  I  am  sure,  surrender  to  discouragement," 
said  Jack. 

The  fiery  Arnold  turned  suddenly  and  lifting  his 
cane  in  a  threatening  manner  said  in  a  loud  voice : 

"Would  you  reprimand  me — you  damned  "upstart?" 

"General,  you  may  strike  me,  if  you  will,  but  I 
can  not  help  saying  that  we  young  men  must  look  to 
you  older  ones  for  a  good  example." 

Very  calmly  and  politely  the  young  man  spok^ 
these  words.  He  towered  above  the  man  Arnold  in 
spirit  and  stature.  The  latter  did  not  commit  the 
folly  of  striking  him  but  with  a  look  of  scorn  ordered 
him  to  leave  the  office. 

Jack  obeyed  the  order  and  went  at  once  to  call 
upon  his  old  friend,  Governor  Reed.  He  told  the 
Governor  of  his  falling  out  with  the  Major-General. 

"Arnold  is  a  sordid,  selfish  man  and  a  source  of 


THE  HORSE  OF  DESTINY  347 

great  danger  to  our  cause,"  said  the  Governor.  "He 
is  vain  and  loves  display  and  is  living  far  beyond  his 
means.  To  maintain  his  extravagance  he  has  resorted 
to  privateering  and  speculation,  and  none  of  it  has 
been  successful.  He  is  deeply  involved  in  debt.  It 
is  charged  that  he  has  used  his  military  authority  for 
private  gain.  He  was  tried  by  a  court-martial  but 
escaped  with  only  a  reprimand  from  the  Commander- 
in-Chief.  He  is  thick  with  the  Tories.  He  is  the 
type  of  man  who  would  sell  his  master  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver." 

"This  is  alarming,"  said  Jack. 

"My  boy  an  ill  wind  is  blowing  on  us,"  the  Gov- 
ernor went  on.  "We  have  all  too  many  Arnolds  in 
our  midst.  Our  currency  has  depreciated  until  forty 
shillings  will  not  buy  what  one  would  have  bought 
before  the  war.  The  profit  makers  are  rolling  in  lux- 
ury and  the  poor  army  starves.  The  honest  and  patri- 
otic are  impoverished  while  those  who  practise  fraud 
and  Toryism  are  getting  rich." 

Depressed  by  this  report  of  conditions  in  America 
Jack  set  out  for  Washington's  headquarters  on  the 
Hudson.  Never  had  the  posture  of  American  affairs 
looked  so  hopeless.  The  Governor  had  sold  him  a 
young  mare  with  a  white  star  in  her  forehead  and  a 
short,  white  stocking  on  her  left  fore-leg,  known  in 
good  time  as  the  horse  of  destiny. 

"She  was  a  well  turned,  high  spirited  creature  with 
good  plumes,  a  noble  eye  and  a  beautiful  head  and 


348     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

neck,"  Jack  wrote  long  after  the  day  he  parted  with 
her.  "I  have  never  ridden  a  more  distinguished  ani- 
mal. She  was  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  task  ahead 
of  her." 

When  he  had  crossed  the  King's  Ferry  the  mare 
went  lame.  A  little  beyond  the  crossing  he  met  a 
man  on  a  big,  roan  gelding.  Jack  stopped  him  ta  get 
information  about  the  roads  in  the  north. 

"That's  a  good-looking  mare,"  the  man  remarked. 

"And  she  is  better  than  she  looks,"  Jack  answered. 
"But  she  has  thrown  a  shoe  and  gone  lame." 

"I'll  trade  even  and  give  you  a  sound  horse,"  the 
man  proposed. 

"What  is  your  name  and  where  do  you  live?"  Jack 
inquired. 

"My  name  is  Paulding  and  I  live  at  Tarrytown  in 
the  neutral  territory." 

"I  hope  that  you  like  horses." 

"You  can  judge  of  that  by  the  look  of  this  one. 
You  will  observe  that  he  is  well  fed  and  groomed." 

."And  your  own  look  is  that  of  a  good  master," 
said  Jack,  as  he  examined  the  teeth  and  legs  of  the 
gelding.  "Pardon  me  for  asking.  I  have  grown 
fond  of  the  mare.  She  must  have  a  good  master." 

"I  accepted  his  offer  not  knowing  that  a  third  party 
was  looking  on  and  laying  a  deeper  plan  than  either 
of  us  were  able  to  penetrate,"  Jack  used  to  say  of 
that  deal. 

He  approached  the  little  house  in  which  the  Conv 


THE  HORSE  OF  DESTINY  349 

mander-in-Chief  was  quartered  with  a  feeling  of 
dread,  fearing  the  effect  of  late  developments  on  his 
spirit. 

The  young  man  wrote  to  Margaret  in  care  of 
Franklin  this  account  of  the  day  which  followed  his 
return  to  camp : 

"Thank  God!  I  saw  on  the  face  of  our  Com- 
mander the  same  old  look  of  unshaken  confidence.  I 
knew  that  he  could  see  his  way  and  what  a  sense  of 
comfort  came  of  that  knowledge!  More  than  we  can 
tell  we  are  indebted  to  the  calm  and  masterful  face  of 
Washington.  It  holds  up  the  heart  of  the  army  in 
all  discouragements.  His  faith  is  established.  He  is 
not  afraid  of  evil  tidings.  This  great,  god-like  per- 
sonality of  his  has  put  me  on  my  feet  again.  I  was 
in  need  of  it,  for  a  different  kind  of  man,  of  the  name 
of  Arnold,  had  nearly  floored  me." 

"  'Sit  down  here  and  tell  me  all  about  Franklin/ 
he  said  with  a  smile. 

"I  told  him  what  was  going  on  in  Paris  and  especi- 
ally of  the  work  of  our  great  minister  to  the  court 
of  Louis  XVI. 

"He  heard  me  with  deep  interest  and  when  I  had 
finished  arose  and  gave  me  his  hand  saying: 

'  'Colonel,  again  you  have  won  my  gratitude.  We 
must  keep  our  courage.' 

"I  told  him  of  my  unhappy  meeting  with  Arnold. 

"  'The  man  has  his  faults — he  is  very  human,  but 
he  has  been  a  good  soldier,'  Washington  answered. 


350     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"The  thought  came  to  me  that  the  love  of  liberty 
had  lifted  many  of  us  above  the  human  plane  of  sordid 
striving. 

"Solomon  came  into  camp  that  evening.  He  was 
so  glad  to  see  me  that  he  could  only  wring  my  hand 
and  utter  exclamations. 

"  'How  is  the  gal  ?'  he  asked  presently. 

"I  told  him  of  our  meeting  in  Passy  and  of  my 
fear  that  we  should  not  meet  again. 

"  'It  seems  as  if  the  Lord  were  not  yet  willing  to 
let  us  marry/  I  said. 

"  'Course  not/  he  answered.  'When  yer  boat  is  in 
the  rapids  it's  no  time  fer  to  go  ashore  an'  pick  apples. 
I  cocalate  the  Lord  is  usin'  ye  fer  to  show  the  Ol' 
World  what's  inside  o'  us  Americans.' 

"Margaret,  I  wonder  if  the  Lord  really  wished  to 
show  you  and  others  the  passion  which  is  in  the  heart 
of  Washington  and  his  army.  On  the  way  to  my 
ship  I  was  like  one  making  bloody  footprints  in  the 
snow.  How  many  of  them  I  have  seen!  And  now 
is  the  time  to  tell  you  that  Doctor  Franklin  has  written 
a  letter  informing  me  how  deeply  our  part  in  the 
little  pageant  had  impressed  Mr.  Hartley  and  the 
court  people  of  France  and  that  he  had  secured  an- 
other loan. 

"Solomon  is  a  man  of  faith.     He  never  falters. 

"He  said  to  me:  'Don't  worry.  That  gal  has  got 
a  backbone.  She  ain't  no  rye  straw.  She's  a-goin'  to 
think  it  over.' 


THE  HORSE  OF  DESTINY  351 

"Neither  spoke  for  a  time.  We  sat  by  an  open 
fire  in  front  of  his  tent  as  the  night  fell.  Solomon 
was  filling  his  pipe.  He  swallowed  and  his  right  eye 
began  to  take  aim.  I  knew  that  some  highly  impor- 
tant theme  would  presently  open  the  door  of  his  intel- 
lect and  come  out. 

"  'Jack,  I  been  over  to  Albany/  he  said.  'Had  a 
long  visit  with  Mirandy.  They  ain't  no  likelier 
womern  in  Ameriky.  I'll  bet  a  pint  o'  powder  an'  a 
fish  hook  on  that.  Ye  kin  look  fer  'em  till  yer  eyes 
run  but  ye' 11  be  obleeged  to  give  up/ 

"He  lighted  his  pipe  and  smoked  a  few  whiffs  and 
added:  'Knit  seventy  pair  o'  socks  fer  my  regi- 
ment this  fall.' 

"  'Have  you  asked  her  to  marry  you  ?'  I  inquired. 

"  'No.  Tain't  likely  she'd  have  me,'  he  answered. 
'She's  had  troubles  enough.  I  wouldn't  ask  no 
womern  to  marry  me  till  the  war  is  fit  out.  I'm  liable 
to  git  all  shot  up  any  day.  I  did  think  I'd  ask  her 
but  I  didn't.  Got  kind  o''  skeered  an'  skittish  when 
we  sot  down  together,  an'  come  to  think  it  all  over, 
't wouldn't  'a'  been  right.' 

"  'You're  wrong,  Solomon,'  I  answered.  'You 
ought  to  have  a  home  of  your  own  and  a  wife  to  make 
you  fond  of  it.  How  is  the  Little  Cricket?' 

"  'Cunnin'est  little  shaver  that  ever  lived/  said  he. 
'I  got  him  a  teeny  waggin  an'  drawed  him  down  to 
the  big  medder  an'  back.  He  had  a  string  hitched 
on  to  my  waist  an'  he  pulled  an'  hauled  an'  hollered 


352     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

whoa  an'  git  ap  till  he  were  erbout  as  hoarse  as  a  bull 
frog.  When  we  got  back  he  wanted  to  go  all  over 
me  with  a  curry  comb  an'  braid  my  mane.' 

"The  old  scout  roared  with  laughter  as  he  thought 
of  the  child's  play  in  which  he  had  had  a  part.  He 
told  me  of  my  own  people  and  next  to  their  good 
health  it  pleased  me  to  learn  that  my  father  had  given 
all  his  horses — save  two — to  Washington.  That  is 
what  all  our  good  men  are  doing.  So  you  will  see 
how  it  is  that  we  are  able  to  go  on  with  this  war 
against  the  great  British  empire. 

"That  night  the  idea  came  to  me  that  I  would  seek 
an  opportunity  to  return  to  France  in  the  hope  of 
finding  you  in  Paris.  I  applied  for  a  short  furlough 
to  give  me  a  chance  to  go  home  and  see  the  family. 
There  I  found  a  singular  and  disheartening  situation. 
My  father's  modest  fortune  is  now  a  part  of  the  ruin 
of  war.  Soon  after  the  beginning  of  hostilities  he 
had  loaned  his  money  to  men  who  had  gone  into  the 
business  of  furnishing  supplies  to  the  army.  He  had 
loaned  them  dollars  worth  a  hundred  cents.  They 
are  paying  their  debts  to  him  in  dollars  worth  less 
than  five  cents.  Many,  and  Washington  among 
them,  have  suffered  in  a  like  manner.  My  father  has 
little  left  but  his  land,  two  horses,  a  yoke  of  oxen 
and  a  pair  of  slaves.  So  I  am  too  poor  to  give  you  a 
home  in  any  degree  worthy  of  you. 

"Dear  old  Solomon  has  proposed  to  make  me  his 
heir,  but  now  that  he  has  met  the  likely  womern  I 


THE  HORSE  OF  DESTINY  353 

must  not  depend  upon  him.  So  I  have  tried  to  make 
you  know  the  truth  about  me  as  well  as  I  do.  If 
your  heart  is  equal  to  the  discouragement  I  have 
heaped  upon  it  I  offer  you  this  poor  comfort. 
When  the  war  is  over  I  can  borrow  a  thousand 
pounds  to  keep  a  roof  over  our  heads  and  a  fowl  in 
the  pot  and  pudding  in  the  twifflers  while  I  am  clear- 
ing the  way  to  success.  The  prospect  is  not  inviting,  I 
fear,  but  if,  happily,  it  should  appeal  to  you,  I  suggest 
that  you  join  your  father  in  New  York  at  the  first  op- 
portunity so  that  we  may  begin  our  life  together  as 
soon  as  the  war  ends.  And  now,  whatever  comes,  I 
would  wish  you  to  keep  these  thoughts  of  me :  I  have 
loved  you,  but  there  are  things  which  I  have  valued 
above  my  own  happiness.  If  I  can  not  have  you  I 
shall  have  always  the  memory  of  the  hours  we  have 
spent  together  and  of  the  great  hope  that  was  mine. 

"While  I  was  at  home  the  people  of  our  neighbor- 
hood set  out  at  daylight  one  morning  for  a  pigeon 
party.  We  had  our  breakfast  on  an  island.  Then  the 
ladies  sat  down  to  knit  and  sew,  while  the  men  went 
fishing.  In  the  afternoon  we  gathered  berries  and  re- 
turned at  dusk  with  filled  pails  and  many  fish.  So  our 
people  go  to  the  great  storehouse  of  Nature  and  help 
themselves." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

WHICH    CONTAINS    THE    ADVENTURES   OF    SOLOMON    IN 
THE  TIMBER  SACK  AND  ON  THE  "HAND-MADE 

RIVER" 

IN  the  spring  of  1779,  there  were  scarcely  sixteen 
thousand  men  in  the  American  army,  of  which  three 
thousand  were  under  Gates  at  Providence;  five  thou- 
sand in  the  Highlands  under  McDougall,  who  was 
building  new  defenses  at  West  Point,  and  on  the  east 
shore  of  the  Hudson  under  Putnam;  seven  thousand 
were  with  Washington  at  Middlebrook  where  he  had 
spent  a  quiet  winter;  a  few  were  in  the  soath.  The 
British,  discouraged  in  their  efforts  to  conquer  the 
northern  and  middle  colonies,  sent  a  force  of  seven 
thousand  men  to  take  Georgia  and  South  Carolina. 
They  hoped  that  Washington,  who  could  not  be  in- 
duced to  risk  his  army  in  decisive  action  against  su- 
perior numbers,  would  thus  be  compelled  to  scatter 
and  weaken  it.  But  the  Commander-in-Chief,  know- 
ing how  seriously  Nature,  his  great  ally,  was  gnawing 
at  the  vitals  of  the  British,  bided  his  time  and  kept  his 
tried  regiments  around  him.  Now  and  then,  a  stagger- 
ing blow  filled  his  enemies  with  a  wholesome  fear  of 
him.  His  sallies  were  as  swift  and  unexpected  as  the 
rush  of  a  panther  with  the  way  of  retreat  always  open. 
Meanwhile  a  cry  of  affliction  and  alarm  had  arisen  in 

354 


THE   TIMBER   SACK  355 

England.  Its  manufacturers  were  on  the  verge  of 
bankruptcy,  its  people  out  of  patience. 

As  soon  as  the  ice  was  out  of  the  lakes  and  rivers, 
Jack  and  Solomon  joined  an  expedition  under  Sul- 
livan against  the  Six  Nations,  who  had  been -wreak- 
ing bloody  vengeance  on  the  frontiers  of  Pennsyl- 
vania and  New  York.  The  Senecas  had  been  the 
worst  offenders,  having  spilled  the  blood  of  every 
white  family  in  their  reach.  Sullivan's  expedition 
ascended  the  Chemung  branch  of  the  Susquehanna 
and  routed  a  great  force  of  Indians  under  Brant  and 
Johnson  at  Newtown  and  crossed  to  the  Valley  of 
the  Genessee,  destroying  orchards,  crops  and  villages. 
The  red  men  were  slain  and  scattered.  The  fertile 
valley  was  turned  into  a  flaming,  smoking  hell. 
Simultaneously  a  force  went  up  the  Alleghany  and 
swept  its  shores  with  the  besom  of  destruction. 

Remembrance  of  the  bold  and  growing  iniquities 
of  the  savage  was  like  a  fire  in  the  heart  of  the  white 
man.  His  blood  boiled  with  anger.  He  was  with- 
out mercy.  Like  every  reaping  of  the  whirlwind  this 
one  had  been  far  more  plentiful  than  the  seed  from 
which  it  sprang.  Those  April  days  the  power  of  the 
Indian  was  forever  broken  and  his  cup  filled  with 
bitterness.  Solomon  had  spoken  the  truth  when  he 
left  the  Council  Fire  in  the  land  of  Kiodote: 

"Hereafter  the  Injun  will  be  a  brother  to  the  snake." 

Jack  and  Solomon  put  their  lives  in  danger  by 
entering  the  last  village  ahead  of  the  army  and  warn- 


356     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

ing  its  people  to  flee.  The  killing  had  made  them 
heart-sick,  although  they  had  ample  reason  for  hating 
the  red  men. 

In  the  absence  of  these  able  helpers  Washington 
had  moved  to  the  Highlands.  This  led  the  British 
General,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  to  decide  to  block  his 
return.  So  he  sent  a  large  force  up  the  river  and 
captured  the  fort  at  Stony  Point  and  King's  Ferry 
connecting  the  great  road  from  the  east  with  the 
middle  states.  The  fort  and  ferry  had  to  be  retaken, 
and,  early  in  July,  Jack  and  Solomon  were  sent  to 
look  the  ground  over. 

In  the  second  day  of  their  reconnoitering  above 
'Stony  Point  they  came  suddenly  upon  a  British  out- 
post. They  were  discovered  and  pursued  but  suc- 
ceeded in  eluding  the  enemy.  Soon  a  large  party 
began  beating  the  bush  with  hounds.  Jack  escaped 
by  hiding  behind  a  waterfall.  Solomon  had  a  most 
remarkable  adventure  in  making  his  way  northward. 
Hearing  the  dogs  behind  him  he  ran  to  the  shore  of 
a  bay,  where  a  big  drive  of  logs  had  been  boomed  in, 
and  ran  over  them  a  good  distance  and  dropped  out 
of  sight.  He  lay  between  two  big  sections  of  a  great 
pine  with  his  nose  above  wrater  for  an  hour  or  so. 
A  band  of  British  came  down  to  the  shore  and  tried 
to  run  the  logs  but,  being  unaccustomed  to  that  kind 
of  work,  were  soon  rolled  under  and  floundering  to 
their  necks. 

"I  hadn't  no  skeer  o'  their  findin'  me,"   Solomon 


THE  TIMBER  SACK  357 

said  to  Jack.  "  'Cause  they  was  a  hundred  acres  o' 
floatin'  timber  in  that  'ere  bay.  I  heard  'em  slippin' 
an'  sloshin'  eround  nigh  shore  a  few  minutes  an'  then 
they  give  up  an'  went  back  in  the  bush.  They  were 
a  strip  o'  open  water  'twixt  the  logs  an'  the  shore  an' 
I  dumb  on  to  the  timber  twenty  rod  er  more  from 
whar  I  waded  in  so's  to  fool  the  dogs." 

"What  did  you  do  with  your  rifle  an'  powder?" 
Jack  inquired. 

"Wai,  ye  see,  they  wuz  some  leetle  logs  beyond  me 
that  made  a  kind  o'  a  holler  an'  I  jest  put  ol'  Marier 
'crost  'em  an'  wound  the  string  o'  my  powder-horn  on 
her  bar'l.  I  lay  thar  a  while  an'  purty  soon  I  heard  a 
feller  comin'  on  the  timber.  He  were  clus  up  to  me 
when  he  hit  a  log  wrong  an'  it  rolled  him  under.  I 
clim'  up  an'  grabbed  my  rifle  an'  thar  were  'nother 
cuss  out  on  the  logs  not  more'n  ten  rod  erway.  He 
took  a  shot  at  me,  but  the  bullet  didn't  come  nigh 
'nough  so's  I  could  hear  it  whisper  he  were  bobbin' 
eround  so.  I  lifted  my  gun  an'  says  I : 

'  'Boy,  you  come  here  to  me.' 

"But  he  thought  he'd  ruther  go  somewhar  else  an* 
he  did — poor,  ignorant  devil!  I  went  to  t'  other 
feller  that  was  rasslin'  with  a  log  tryin'  to  git  it  under 
him.  He'd  flop  the  log  an'  then  it  would  flop  him. 
He'd  throwed  his  rifle  'crost  the  timber.  I  goes  over 
an'  picks  it  up  an'  says  I : 

'Take  it  easy,  my  son.     I'll  help  ye  in  a  minute.' 

"His  answer  wa'n't  none  too  p'lite.    He  were  a  leetle 


358     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

runt  of  a  sergeant.  I  jest  laughed  at  him  an'  went 
to  t'  other  feller  an'  took  the  papers  out  o'  his  pockets. 
I  see  then  a  number  o'  British  boys  was  makin'  fer 
me  on  the  wobbly  top  o'  the  river.  They'd  see  me 
goin'  as  easy  as  a  hoss  on  a  turnpike  an'  they  was 
tryin'  fer  to  git  the  knack  o'  it.  In  a  minute  they 
begun  poppin'  at  me.  But  shootin'  on  logs  is  like 
tryin'  to  walk  a  line  on  a  wet  deck  in  a  hurricane. 
Ye  got  to  know  how  to  offset  the  wobble.  They 
didn't  skeer  me.  I  went  an'  hauled  that  runt  out  o' 
the  water  an'  with  him  under  my  right  arm  an'  the 
two  rifles  under  the  left  un  I  started  treadin'  logs 
headin'  fer  the  north  shore.  They  quit  shootin'  but 
come  on  a'ter  me  pell-mell.  They  got  to  comin'  too 
fast  an'  I  heard  'em  goin'  down  through  the  roof  o' 
the  bay  behind  me  an'  rasslin'  with  the  logs.  That  put 
meat  on  my  bones!  I  could  'a'  gone  back  an'  made 
a  mess  o'  the  hull  party  with  the  toe  o'  my  boot  but  I 
ain't  overly  fond  o'  killin'.  Never  have  been.  I  took 
my  time  an'  slopped  erlong  toward  shore  with  the 
runt  under  my  arm  cussin'  like  a  wildcat.  We  got 
ashore  an'  I  made  the  leetle  sergeant  empty  his 
pockets  an'  give  me  all  the  papers  he  had.  I  took 
the  strip  o'  rawhide  from  round  my  belt  an'  put  a 
noose  above  his  knees  an'  Another  on  my  wrist  an'  sot 
down  to  wait  fer  dark  which  the  sun  were  then  below 
the  tree-tops.  I  looked  with  my  spy-glass  'crost  the 
bay  an'  could  see  the  heads  bobbin'  up  an'  down  an'  a 
dozen  men  comin'  out  writh  poles  to  help  the  log 


THE  TIMBER  SACK  359 

rasslers.  Per  some  time  they  had  'nough  to  do  an'  I 
wouldn't  be  supprised.  If  we  had  the  hull  British 
army  on  floatin'  timber  the  logs  would  lick  'em  in  a 
few  minutes. " 

Solomon  came  in  with  his  prisoner  and  accurate 
information  as  to  the  force  of  British  in  the  High- 
lands. 

On  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  July,  a  detachment 
of  Washington's  troops  under  Wayne,  preceded  by 
the  two  scouts,  descended  upon  Stony  Point  and 
King's  Ferry  and  routed  the  enemy,  capturing  five 
hundred  and  fifty  men  and  killing  sixty.  Within  a 
few  days  the  British  came  up  the  river  in  great  force 
and  Washington,  unwilling  to  risk  a  battle,  quietly 
withdrew  and  let  them  have  the  fort  and  ferry  and 
their  labor  for  their  pains.  It  was  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment to  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  The  whole  British 
empire  clamored  for  decisive  action  and  their  great 
Commander  was  unable  to  bring  it  about  and  mean- 
while the  French  were  preparing  to  send  a  heavy 
force  against  them. 

2 

Solomon,  being  the  ablest  bush  scout  in  the 
American  army,  was  needed  for  every  great  enter- 
prise in  the  wilderness.  So  when  a  small  force  was 
sent  up  the  Penobscot  River  to  dislodge  a  regiment 
of  British  from  Nova  Scotia,  in  the  late  summer  of 
1779,  he  went  with  it.  The  fleet  which  conveyed  the 
Americans  was  in  command  of  a  rugged  old  sea  cap- 


360     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

tain  from  Connecticut  of  the  name  of  Saltonstall  who 
had  little  knowledge  of  the  arts  of  war.  He  neglected 
the  precautions  which  a  careful  commander  would 
have  taken. 

A  force  larger  than  his  own  should  have  guarded 
the  mouth  of  the  river.  Of  this  Solomon  gave  him 
warning,  but  Captain  Saltonstall  did  not  share  the 
apprehension  of  the  great  scout.  In  consequence  they 
were  pursued  and  overhauled  far  up  the  river  by  a 
British  fleet.  Saltonstall  in  a  panic  ran  his  boats 
ashore  and  blew  them  up  with  powder.  Again  a 
force  of  Americans  was  compelled  to  suffer  the  bitter 
penalty  of  ignorance.  The  soldiers  and  crews  ran 
wild  in  the  bush  a  hundred  miles  from  any  settlement. 
It  was  not  possible  to  organize  them.  They  fled  in 
all  directions.  Solomon  had  taken  with  him  a  bark 
canoe.  This  he  carried,  heading  eastward  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  large  company,  poorly  provisioned.  A 
number  of  the  ships'  boats  which  had  been  lowered 
and  moved,  before  the  destruction  began,  were  car- 
ried on  the  advice  of  Solomon.  Fortunately  this 
party  was  not  pursued.  Nearly  every  man  in  it  had 
his  gun  and  ammunition.  The  scout  had  picked  up 
a  goodly  outfit  of  axes  and  shovels  and  put  them  in  the 
boats.  He  organized  his  retreat  with  sentries,  rear 
guard,  signals  and  a  plan  of  defense.  The  carriers 
were  shifted  every  hour.  After  two  days  of  hard 
travel  through  the  deep  woods  they  came  to  a  lake 
more  than  two  miles  long  and  about  half  as  wide. 


THE  TIMBER  SACK  361 

Their  provisions  were  gone  save  a  few  biscuit  and  a 
sack  of  salt.  There  were  sixty-four  men  in  the  party. 

Solomon  organized  a  drive.  A  great  loop  of  weary 
men  was  flung  around  the  end  of  the  lake  more  than 
a  mile  from  its  shore.  Then  they  began  approaching 
the  camp,  barking  like  dogs  as  they  advanced.  In 
ihis  manner  three  deer  and  a  moose  were  driven  to 
the  water  and  slain.  These  relieved  the  pangs  of 
hunger  and  insured  the  party,  for  some  little  time, 
against  starvation.  They  were,  however,  a  long  way 
from  help  in  an  unknown  wilderness  with  a  prospect 
of  deadly  hardships.  Solomon  knew  that  the  streams 
in  this  territory  ran  toward  the  sea  and  for  that  rea- 
son he  had  burdened  the  party  with  boats  and  tools. 

The  able  scout  explored  a  long  stretch  of  the  lake's 
outlet  which  flowed  toward  the  south.  It  had  a  con- 
siderable channel  but  not  enough  water  for  boats  or 
canoes  even.  That  night  he  began  cutting  timber  for 
a  dam  at  the  end  of  the  lake  above  its  outlet.  Near 
sundown,  next  day,  the  dam  was  finished  and  the 
water  began  rising.  A  rain  hurried  the  process.  Two 
days  later  the  big  water  plane  had  begun  to  spill  into 
its  outlet  and  flood  the  near  meadow  flats.  The  party 
got  the  boats  in  place  some  twenty  rods  below  and 
ready  to  be  launched.  Solomon  drove  the  plug  out 
of  his  dam  and  the  pent-up  water  began  to  pour 
through.  The  stream  was  soon  flooded  and  the  boats 
floating.  Thus  with  a  spirited  water  horse  to  carry 
them  they  began  their  journey  to  the  sea.  Men  stood 


362     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

in  the  bow  and  stern  of  each  boat  with  poles  to  push 
it  along  and  keep  it  off  the  banks.  Some  ten  miles 
below  they  swung  into  a  large  river  and  went  on, 
more  swiftly,  with  the  aid  of  oars  and  paddles. 

Thus  Solomon  became  the  hero  of  this  ill-fated 
expedition.  After  that  he  was  often  referred  to  in 
the  army  as  the  River  Maker,  although  the  ingenious 
man  was  better  known  as  the  Lightning  Hurler,  thaf 
phrase  having  been  coined  in  Jack's  account  of  his 
adventures  with  Solomon  in  the  great  north  bush.  In 
the  ranks  he  had  been  regarded  with  a  kind  of  awe 
as  a  most  redoubtable  man  of  mysterious  and  uncanny 
gifts  since  he  and  Jack  had  arrived  in  the  Highlands 
fresh  from  their  adventure  of  "shifting  the  skeer"- 
as  Solomon  was  wont  to  put  it — -whereupon,  with  no 
great  delay,  the  rash  Colonel  Burley  had  his  Binkus- 
sing.  The  scout  was  often  urged  to  make  a  display 
of  his  terrible  weapon  but  he  held  his  tongue  about  it, 
nor  would  he  play  with  the  lightning  or  be  induced 
to  hurl  it  upon  white  men. 

"That's  only  fer  to  save  a  man  from  bein'  burnt 
alive  an'  et  up,"  he  used  to  say. 

At  the  White  Pine  Mills  near  the  sea  they  were 
taken  aboard  a  lumber  ship  bound  for  Boston.  Solo- 
mon returned  with  a  great  and  growing  influence 
among  the  common  soldiers.  He  had  spent  a  week 
in  Newport  and  many  of  his  comrades  had  reached 
the  camp  of  Washington  in  advance  of  the  scout's 
arrival. 


THE  TIMBER  SACK  363 

When  Solomon — a  worn  and  ragged  veteran — • 
gained  the  foot  of  the  Highlands,  late  in  October,  he 
learned  to  his  joy  that  Stony  Point  and  King's  Ferry 
had  been  abandoned  by  the  British.  He  found  Jack 
at  Stony  Point  and  told  him  the  story  of  his  wasted 
months.  Then  Jack  gave  his  friend  the  news  of  the 
war. 

D'Estaing  with  a  French  fleet  had  arrived  early  in 
the  month.  This  had  led  to  the  evacuation  of  New- 
port and  Stony  Point  to  strengthen  the  British  posi- 
tion in  New  York.  But  South  Carolina  had  been 
conquered  by  the  British.  It  took  seven  hundred  dol- 
lars to  buy  a  pair  of  shoes  with  the  money  of  that 
state,  so  that  great  difficulties  had  fallen  in  the  way 
of  arming  and  equipping  a  capable  fighting  force. 

"I  do  not  talk  of  it  to  others,  but  the  troubles  of 
our  beloved  Washington  are  appalling,"  Jack  went 
on.  "The  devil  loves  to  work  with  the  righteous, 
waiting  his  time.  He  had  his  envoy  even  among  the 
disciples  of  Jesus.  He  is  among  us  in  the  person  of 
Benedict  Arnold — lover  of  gold.  The  new  recruits 
are  mostly  of  his  stripe.  He  is  their  Captain.  They 
demand  big  bounties.  The  faithful  old  guard,  who 
have  fought  for  the  love  of  liberty  and  are  still  wait- 
ing for  their  pay,  see  their  new  comrades  taking  high 
rewards.  It  isn't  fair.  Naturally  the  old  boys  hate 
the  newcomers.  They  feel  like  putting  a  coat  of  tar 
and  feathers  on  every  one  of  them.  You  and  I  have 
got  to  go  to  work  and  put  the  gold  seekers  out  of  the 


364     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

temple.     They  need  to  hear  some  of  your  plain  talk. 
Our  greatest  peril  is  Arnoldism." 

"You  jest  wait  an'  hear  to  me/'  said  Solomon. 
"I  got  suthin'  to  say  that'll  make  their  ears  bleed 
passin'  through  'em.' 

The  evening  of  his  arrival  in  camp  Solomon  talked 
at  the  general  assembly  of  the  troops.  He  was  intro- 
duced with  most  felicitous  good  humor  by  Wash- 
ington's able  secretary,  Mr.  Alexander  Hamilton. 
The  ingenious  and  rare  accomplishments  of  the  scout 
and  his  heroic  loyalty  were  rubbed  with  the  rhetoric 
of  an  able  talker  until  they  shone. 

"Boys,  ye  kint  make  no  hero  out  o'  an  old  scrag 
o'  a  man  like  me,"  Solomon  began.  "You  may 
b'lieve  what  Mr.  Hamilton  says  but  I  know  better. 
I  been  chased  by  Death  an'  grabbed  by  the  coat-tails 
frequent,  but  I  been  lucky  enough  to  pull  away. 
That's  all.  You  new  recruits  'a'  been  told  how  great 
ye  be.  I'm  a-goin'  fer  to  tell  ye  the  truth.  I  don't 
like  the  way  ye  look  at  this  job.  It  ain't  no  job  o' 
workin'  out.  We're  all  workin'  fer  ourselves.  It's  my 
fight  an'  it's  yer  fight.  I  won't  let  no  king  put  a  halter 
on  my  head  an',  with  the  stale  in  one  hand  an'  a  whip 
in  t'  other,  lead  me  up  to  the  tax  collector  to  pay  fer 
his  fun.  I'd  ruther  fight  him.  Some  o'  you  has  fam'lies. 
Don't  worry  'bout  'em.  They'll  be  took  care  of.  I  got 
some  confidence  in  the  Lord  myself.  Couldn't  'a'  lived 
without  it.  Look  a'  me.  I'm  so  ragged  that  I  got 
patches  o'  sunburn  on  my  back  an'  belly.  I'm  what 


THE  TIMBER  SACK  365 

ye  might  call  a  speckled  man.     My  feet  V  been  bled. 
My  body  looks  like  an  ol'  tree  that  has  been  clawed 
by   a  bear  an'   bit  by   woodpeckers.     I've   stuck  my 
poker  into  the  fire  o'  hell.     I've  been  singed  an'  frost 
bit  an'  half  starved  an'  ripped  by  bullets,  an'  all  the  pay 
I  want  is  liberty  an'  it  ain't  due  yit.     I've  done  so  little' 
I'm  'shamed  o'  myself.     Money!     Lord  God  o'  Israel! 
If  any  man  has  come  here  fer  to  make  money  let  him 
stan'  up  while  we  all  pray  fer  his  soul.     These  'ere 
United  States  is  your  hum  an'  my  hum  an'  erway  down 
the  trail  afore  us  they's  millions  'pon  millions  o'  folks 
comin'  an'  we  want  'em  to  be  free.     We're  a-fightin' 
fer  'em  an'  fer  ourselves.     If  ye  don't  fight  ye'll  git 
nothin'  but  taxes  to  pay  the  cost  o'  lickin'  ye.    It'll  cost 
a  hundred  times  more  to  be  licked  than  it'll  cost  to 
win.    Ye  won't  find  any  o'  the  ol'  boys  o'  Washington 
squealin'  erbout  pay.     We're  lookin'  fer  brothers  an' 
not  pigs.     Git  down  on  yer  knees  with  me,  every  one 
o'  ye,  while  the  Chaplain  asks  God  A'mighty  to  take  us 
all  into  His  army." 

The  words  of  Solomon  put  the  new  men  in  better 
spirit  and  there  was  little  complaining  after  that. 
They  called  that  speech  "The  Binkussing  of  the  Re- 
cruits." Solomon  was  the  soul  of  the  old  guard. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

IN    WHICH    ARNOLD    AND    HENRY    THORNHILL    ARRIVE 
IN   THE   HIGHLANDS 

MARGARET  and  her  mother  returned  to  England 
with  David  Hartley  soon  after  Colonel  Irons  had  left 
France.  The  British  Commissioner  had  not  been 
able  to  move  the  philosopher.  Later,  from  London, 
he  had  sent  a  letter  to  Franklin  seeking  to  induce 
America  to  desert  her  new  ally.  Franklin  had  an- 
swered : 

"I  would  think  the  destruction  of  our  whole 
country  and  the  extirpation  of  our  people  preferable 
to  the  infamy  of  abandoning  our  allies.  We  may 
lose  all  but  we  shall  act  in  good  faith." 

Here  again  was  a  new  note  in  the  history  of  diplo- 
matic intercourse. 

Colonel  Irons'  letter  to  Margaret  Hare,  with  the 
greater  part  of  which  the  reader  is  familiar,  was  for- 
warded by  Franklin  to  his  friend  Jonathan  Shipley, 
Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  and  by  him  delivered.  Another 
letter,  no  less  vital  to  the  full  completion  of  the  task 
of  these  pages  was  found  in  the  faded  packet.  It  is 
from  General  Sir  Benjamin  Hare  to  his  wife  in  Lon- 
don and  is  dated  at  New  York,  January  10,  1780. 
This  is  a  part  of  the  letter : 

"I  have  a  small  house  near  the  barracks  with  our 

366 


ARNOLD  AND  HENRY  THORNHILL     367 

friend  Colonel  Ware  and  the  best  of  negro  slaves  and 
every  comfort.  It  is  now  a  loyal  city,  secure  from 
attack,  and,  but  for  the  soldiers,  one  might  think  it  a 
provincial  English  town.  This  war  may  last  for 
years  and  as  the  sea  is,  for  a  time,  quite  safe,  I  have 
resolved  to  ask  you  and  Margaret  to  take  passage  on 
one  of  the  first  troop  ships  sailing  for  New  York, 
after  this  reaches  you.  Our  friend  Sir  Roger  and 
his  regiments  will  be  sailing  in  March  as  I  am  ap- 
prised by  a  recent  letter.  I  am,  by  this  post,  request- 
ing him  to  offer  you  suitable  accommodations  and 
to  give  you  all  possible  assistance.  The  war  would 
be  over  now  if  Washington  would  only  fight.  His 
caution  is  maddening.  His  army  is  in  a  desperate 
plight,  but  he  will  not  come  out  and  meet  us  in  the 
open.  He  continues  to  lean  upon  the  strength  of  the 
hills.  But  there  are  indications  that  he  will  be  aban- 
doned by  his  own  army." 

Those  "indications"  were  the  letters  of  one  John 
Anderson,  who  described  himself  as  a  prominent 
officer  in  the  American  army.  The  letters  were 
written  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  They  asked  for  a 
command  in  the  British  army  and  hinted  at  the  ad- 
vantage to  be  derived  from  facts,  of  prime  importance, 
in  the  writer's  possession. 

Margaret  and  her  mother  sailed  with  Sir  Roger 
Waite  and  his  regiments  on  the  tenth  of  March  and 
arrived  in  New  York  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  April. 
Rivington's  Gazette  of  the  twenty-eighth  of  that  month 


368     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

describes  an  elaborate  dinner  given  by  Major  John 
Andre,  Adjutant-General  of  the  British  Army,  at  the 
City  Hotel  to  General  Sir  Benjamin  Hare  and  Lady 
Hare  and  their  daughter  Margaret.  Indeed  the  condi- 
tions in  New  York  differed  from  those  in  the  camp  of 
Washington  as  the  day  differs  from  the  night. 

A  Committee  of  Congress  had  just  finished  a  visit 
to  Washington's  Highland  camp.  They  reported 
that  the  army  had  received  no  pay  in  five  months; 
that  it  often  went  "sundry  successive  days  without 
meat" ;  that  it  had  scarcely  six  days'  provisions  ahead ; 
that  no  forage  was  available;  that  the  medical  depart- 
ment had  neither  sugar,  tea,  chocolate,  wine  nor 
spirits. 

The  month  of  May,  1780,  gave  Washington  about 
the  worst  pinch  in  his  career.  It  was  the  pinch  of 
hunger.  Supplies  had  not  arrived.  Famine  had 
entered  the  camp  and  begun  to  threaten  its  life. 
Soldiers  can  get  along  without  pay  but  they  mus* 
have  food.  Mutiny  broke  out  among  the  recruits. 

In  the  midst  of  this  trouble,  Lafayette,  the  hand- 
some French  Marquis,  then  twenty-three  years  old, 
arrived  on  his  white  horse,  after  a  winter  in  Paris, 
bringing  word  that  a  fleet  and  army  from  France  were 
heading  across  the  sea.  This  news  revived  the  droop- 
ing spirit  of  the  army.  Soon  boats  began  to  arrive 
from  down  the  river  with  food  from  the  east.  The 
crisis  passed.  In  the  north  a  quiet  summer  followed. 
The  French  fleet  with  six  thousand  men  under 


ARNOLD  AND  HENRY  THORNHILL  369 

Rochambeau  arrived  at  Newport,  July  tenth,  and 
were  immediately  blockaded  by  the  British  as  was  a 
like  expedition  fitting  out  at  Brest.  So  Washington 
could  only  hold  to  his  plan  of  prudent  waiting. 

2 

On  a  clear,  warm  day,  late  in  July,  1780,  a  hand- 
some coach  drawn  by  four  horses  crossed  King's 
Ferry  and  toiled  up  the  Highland  road.  It  carried 
Benedict  Arnold  and  his  wife  and  their  baggage. 
Jack  and  Solomon  passed  and  recognized  them. 

"What  does  that  mean,  I  wonder?"  Jack  queried. 

"Dun  know,"  Solomon  answered. 

"I'm  scared  about  it,"  said  the  younger  scout.  "I 
am  afraid  that  this  money  seeker  has  the  'confidence 
of  Washington.  He  has  been  a  good  fighting  man. 
That  goes  a  long  way  with  the  Chief." 

Colonel  Irons  stopped  his  horse.  "I  am  of  half  a 
mind  to  go  back,"  he  declared. 

"Why?" 

"I  didn't  tell  the  General  half  that  Reed  said  to  me. 
It  was  so  bitter  and  yet  I  believe  it  was  true.  I 
ought  to  have  told  him.  Perhaps  I  ought  now  to  go 
and  tell  him." 

"There's  time  'nough,"  said  Solomon.  "Wait  till 
we  git  back.  Sometimes  I've  thought  the  Chief 
needed  advice  but  it's  allus  turned  out  that  I  was  the 
one  that  needed  it." 

The  two  horsemen  rode  on  in  silence.  It  was  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  of  that  memorable  July  day. 


370     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  were  bound  for  the  neutral  territory  between 
the  American  and  British  lines,  infested  by  "cow 
boys"  from  the  south  and  "skinners"  from  the  north 
who  were  raiding  the  farms  of  the  settlers  and  driv- 
ing away  their  cattle  to  be  sold  to  the  opposing  armies. 
The  two  scouts  were  sent  to  learn  the  facts  and  re- 
port upon  them.  They  parted  at  a  cross-road.  It 
was  near  sundown  when  at  a  beautiful  brook,  bor- 
dered with  spearmint  and  wild  iris,  Jack  watered  and 
fed  his  horse  and  sat  down  to  eat  his  luncheon.  He 
was  thinking  of  Arnold  and  the  new  danger  when  he 
discovered  that  a  man  stood  near  him.  The  young 
scout  had  failed  to  hear  his  approach — a  circumstance 
in  no  way  remarkable  since  the  road  was  little  trav- 
eled and  covered  with  moss  and  creeping  herbage. 
He  thought  not  of  this,  however,  but  only  of  the  face 
and  form  and  manner  of  the  stranger.  The  face 
was  that  of  a  man  of  middle  age.  The  young  man 
wrote  in  a  letter: 

"It  was  a  singularly  handsome  face,  smooth  shaven 
and  well  shaped  with  large,  dark  eyes  and  a  skin  very 
clean  and  perfect — I  had  almost  said  it  was  trans- 
parent. Add  to  all  this  a  look  of  friendliness  and 
masterful  dignity  and  you  will  understand  why  I 
rose  to  my  feet  and  took  off  my  hat.  His  stature 
was  above  my  own,  his  form  erect.  I  remember 
nothing  about  his  clothes  save  that  they  were  dark 
in  color  and  seemed  to  be  new  and  admirably  fitted 

"  'You    are    John    Irons,    Jr.,    and    I    am    Henr> 


ARNOLD  AND  HENRY  THORNHILL  371 

rhornhill,'  said  he.  'I  saw  you  at  Kinderhook  where 
I  used  to  live.  I  liked  you  then  and,  since  the  war 
began,  I  have  known  of  your  adventures.' 

"  'I  did  not  flatter  myself  that  any  one  could  know 
of  them  except  my  family,  and  my  fellow  scout  and 
General  Washington/  I  answered. 

"  'Well,  I  happen  to  have  had  the  chance  to  know  of 
them,'  he  went  on.  'You  are  a  true  friend  of  the 
great  cause.  I  saw  you  passing  a  little  way  back  and 
I  followed  for  I  have  something  to  say  to  you.' 

"  'I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  of  it,'  was  my  answer. 

"  'Washington  can  not  be  overcome  by  his  enemies 
unless  he  is  betrayed  by  his  friends.  Arnold  has 
been  put  in  command  at  West  Point.  He  has  planned 
the  betrayal  of  the  army.' 

"'Do  you  know  that?'  I  asked. 

"  'As  well  as  I  know  light  and  darkness/ 

"  'Have  you  told  Washington  ?' 

"l  'No.  As  yet  I  have  had  no  opportunity.  I  am 
telling  him,  now,  through  you.  In  his  friendships  he 
is  a  singularly  stubborn  man.  The  wiles  of  an  enemy 
are  as  an  open  book  to  him  but  those  of  a  friend  he  is 
not  able  to  comprehend.  He  will  discredit  or  only 
half  believe  any  warning  that  you  or  I  may  give  him. 
But  it  is  for  you  and  Solomon  to  warn  him  and  be 
not  deceived/ 

"  'I  shall  turn  about  and  ride  back  to  camp/  I  said. 

"  'There  is  no  need  of  haste/  he  answered.  'Arnold 
does  not  assume  command  until  the  third  of  August/ 


370     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  were  bound  for  the  neutral  territory  between 
the  American  and  British  lines,  infested  by  "cow 
boys"  from  the  south  and  "skinners"  from  the  north 
who  were  raiding  the  farms  of  the  settlers  and  driv- 
ing away  their  cattle  to  be  sold  to  the  opposing  armies. 
The  two  scouts  were  sent  to  learn  the  facts  and  re- 
port upon  them.  They  parted  at  a  cross-road.  It 
was  near  sundown  when  at  a  beautiful  brook,  bor- 
dered with  spearmint  and  wild  iris,  Jack  watered  and 
fed  his  horse  and  sat  down  to  eat  his  luncheon.  He 
was  thinking  of  Arnold  and  the  new  danger  when  he 
discovered  that  a  man  stood  near  him.  The  young 
scout  had  failed  to  hear  his  approach — a  circumstance 
in  no  way  remarkable  since  the  road  was  little  trav- 
eled and  covered  with  moss  and  creeping  herbage. 
He  thought  not  of  this,  however,  but  only  of  the  face 
and  form  and  manner  of  the  stranger.  The  face 
was  that  of  a  man  of  middle  age.  The  young  man 
wrote  in  a  letter: 

"It  was  a  singularly  handsome  face,  smooth  shaven 
and  well  shaped  with  large,  dark  eyes  and  a  skin  very 
clean  and  perfect — I  had  almost  said  it  was  trans- 
parent. Add  to  all  this  a  look  of  friendliness  and 
masterful  dignity  and  you  will  understand  why  I 
rose  to  my  feet  and  took  off  my  hat.  His  stature 
was  above  my  own,  his  form  erect.  I  remember 
nothing  about  his  clothes  save  that  they  were  dark 
in  color  and  seemed  to  be  new  and  admirably  fitted 

"  'You    are    John    Irons,    Jr.,    and    I    am    Henr> 


ARNOLD  AND  HENRY  THORNHILL  371 

Iriornhill/  said  he.  'I  saw  you  at  Kinderhook  where 
I  used  to  live.  I  liked  you  then  and,  since  the  war 
began,  I  have  known  of  your  adventures.' 

"  'I  did  not  flatter  myself  that  any  one  could  know 
of  them  except  my  family,  and  my  fellow  scout  and 
General  Washington/  I  answered. 

"  'Well,  I  happen  to  have  had  the  chance  to  know  of 
them,'  he  went  on.  'You  are  a  true  friend  of  the 
great  cause.  I  saw  you  passing  a  little  way  back  and 
I  followed  for  I  have  something  to  say  to  you.' 

"  'I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  of  it/  was  my  answer. 

"  'Washington  can  not  be  overcome  by  his  enemies 
unless  he  is  betrayed  by  his  friends.  Arnold  has 
been  put  in  command  at  West  Point.  He  has  planned 
the  betrayal  of  the  army.' 

"'Do  you  know  that?'  I  asked. 

"  'As  well  as  I  know  light  and  darkness/ 

"  'Have  you  told  Washington?' 

**  'No.  As  yet  I  have  had  no  opportunity.  I  am 
telling  him,  now,  through  you.  In  his  friendships  he 
is  a  singularly  stubborn  man.  The  wiles  of  an  enemy 
are  as  an  open  book  to  him  but  those  of  a  friend  he  is 
not  able  to  comprehend.  He  will  discredit  or  only 
half  believe  any  warning  that  you  or  I  may  give  him. 
But  it  is  for  you  and  Solomon  to  warn  him  and  be 
not  deceived/ 

"  'I  shall  turn  about  and  ride  back  to  camp/  I  said. 

"  'There  is  no  need  of  haste/  he  answered.  'Arnold 
does  not  assume  command  until  the  third  of  August/ 


372     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"He  shaded  his  eyes  and  looked  toward  the  west 
where  the  sun  was  setting  and  the  low  lying  clouds 
were  like  rose  colored  islands  in  a  golden  sea,  and 
added  as  he  hurried  away  down  the  road  to  the  south : 

"  'It  is  a  beautiful  world/ 

"  'Too  good  for  righting  men/  I  answered  as  I  sat 
down  to  finish  my  luncheon  for  I  was  still  hungry. 

"While  I  ate,  the  tormenting  thought  came  to  me 
that  I  had  neglected  to  ask  for  the  source  of  his 
information  or  for  his  address.  It  was  a  curious 
oversight  due  to  his  masterly  manner  and  that  sense 
of  the  guarded  tongue  which  an  ordinary  mortal  is 
apt  to  feel  in  the  presence  of  a  great  personality.  I 
had  been,  in  a  way,  self-bridled  and  cautious  in  my 
speech,  as  I  have  been  wont  to  be  in  the  presence  of 
Washington  himself.  I  looked  down  the  road  ahead. 
The  stranger  had  rounded  a  bend  and  was  now  hidden 
by  the  bush.  I  hurried  through  my  repast,  bridled 
ny  horse  and  set  off  at  a  gallop  expecting  to  overtake 
him,  but  to  my  astonishment  he  had  left  the  road.  I 
did  not  see  him  again,  but  his  words  were  ever  with 
me  in  the  weeks  that  followed. 

"I  reached  the  Corlies  farm,  far  down  in  the  neutral 
territory,  at  ten  o'clock  and  a  little  before  dawn  was 
with  Corlies  and  his  neighbors  in  a  rough  fight  with 
a  band  of  cattle  thieves,  in  the  course  of  which  three 
men  and  a  boy  were  seriously  disabled  by  my  pistols. 
We  had  salted  a  herd  and  concealed  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  it  and  so  were  able  to  shoot  from  good 


ARNOLD  AND  HENRY  THORNHILL  373 

cover  when  the  thieves  arrived.  Solomon  and  I 
spent  four  days  in  the  neutral  territory.  When  we 
left  it  a  dozen  cattle  thieves  were  in  need  of  repair 
and  three  had  moved  to  parts  unknown.  Save  in  the 
southern  limit,  their  courage  had  been  broken. 

"I  had  often  thought  of  Nancy,  the  blaze-faced 
mare,  that  I  had  got  from  Governor  Reed  and  traded 
to  Mr.  Paulding.  *  I  was  again  reminded  of  her  by 
meeting  a  man  who  had  just  come  from  Tarrytown, 
Being  near  that  place  I  rode  on  to  Paulding's  farm 
and  spent  a  night  in  his  house.  I  found  Nancy  in 
good  flesh  and  spirits.  She  seemed  to  know  and  like 
the  touch  of  my  hand  and,  standing  by  her  side,  the 
notion  came  to  me  that  I  ought  to  own  her.  Pauld- 
ing was  reduced  in  circumstances.  Having  been  a 
patriot  and  a  money-lender,  the  war  had  impoverished 
him.  My  own  horse  was  worn  by  overwork  and  so 
I  proposed  a  trade  and  offered  a  sum  to  boot  which 
he  promptly  accepted.  I  came  back  up  the  north  road 
with  the  handsome,  high-headed  mare  under  my 
saddle.  The  next  night  I  stopped  with  one  Reuben 
Smith  near  the  northern  limit  of  the  neutral  territory 
below  Stony  Point.  Smith  had  prospered  by  selling 
supplies  to  the  patriot  army.  I  had  heard  that  he 
was  a  Tory  and  so  I  wished  to  know  him.  I  found 
him  a  rugged,  jovial,  long-haired  man  of  middle  age, 
with  a  ready  ringing  laugh.  His  jokes  were  spoken 
in  a  low  tone  and  followed  by  quick,  stertorous  'breath- 
ing and  roars  and  gestures  of  appreciation.  His 


374     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

cheerful  spirit  had  no  doubt  been  a  help  to  him  in  our 
camp. 

"'I've  got  the  habit  o'  laughin'  at  my  own  jokes,' 
said  he.  'Ye  see  it's  a  lonely  country  here  an'  if  I 
didn't  give  'em  a  little  encouragement  they  wouldn't 
come  eround,'  the  man  explained. 

"He  lifted  a  foot  and  swung  it  in  the  air  while  he 
bent  the  knee  of  the  leg  on  which  he  was  standing 
and  opened  his  mouth  widely  and  blew  the  air  out 
of  his  lungs  and  clapped  his  hands  together. 

"  'It  also  gives  you  exercise,'  I  remarked. 

"  'A  joke  is  like  a  hoss;  it  has  to  be  fed  or  it  won't 
work,'  he  remarked,  as  he  continued  his  cheerful  gym- 
nastics. I  have  never  known  a  man  to  whom  a  joke 
was  so  much  of  an  undertaking.  He  sobered  down 
and  added: 

"  'This  mare  is  no  stranger  to  oats  an'  the  curry 
comb." 

"He  looked  her  over  carefully  before  he  led  her  to 
the  stable. 

"Next  morning  as  he  stood  by  her  noble  head, 
Smith  said  to  me: 

"  'She's  a  knowin'  beast.  She'd  be  smart  enough 
to  laugh  at  my  jokes  an'  I  wouldn't  wonder.' 

"He  was  immensely  pleased  with  this  idea  of  his. 
Then,  turning  serious,  he  asked  if  I  would  sell  her. 

"  'You  couldn't  afford  to  own  that  mare,'  I  said. 

"I  had  touched  his  vanity.  In  fact  I  did  not 
realize  how  much  he  had  made  by  his  overcharging. 


ARNOLD  AND  HENRY  THORNHILL  375 

He  was  better  able  to  own  her  than  I  and  that  he 
proposed  to  show  me. 

"He  offered  for  her  another  horse  and  a  sum  which 
caused  me  to  take  account  of  my  situation.  The 
money  would  be  a  help  to  me.  However,  I  shook  my 
head.  He  increased  his  offer. 

"  'What  do  you  want  of  her?'  I  asked. 

"  Tve  always  wanted  to  cwn  a  hoss  like  that/  he 
answered. 

"  'I  intended  to  keep  the  mare,'  said  I.  'But  if 
you  will  treat  her  well  and  give  her  a  good  home  I 
shall  let  you  have  her/ 

'  'A  man  who  likes  a  good  joke  will  never  drive  a 
spavined  hoss/  he  answered  merrily. 

"So  it  happened  that  the  mare  Nancy  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Reuben  Smith/' 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LOVE  AND   TREASON 

WHEN  Jack  and  Solomon  returned  to  headquarters, 
Arnold  and  his  wife  were  settled  in  a  comfortable 
house  overlooking  the  river.  Colonel  Irons  made  his 
report.  The  Commander-in-Chief  complimented  him 
and  invited  the  young  man  to  make  a  tour  of  the 
camp  in  his  company.  They  mounted  their  horses 
and  rode  away  together. 

"I  learn  that  General  Arnold  is  to  be  in  command 
here,"  Jack  remarked  soon  after  the  ride  began. 

"I  have  not  yet  announced  my  intention,"  said 
Washington.  "Who  told  you?" 

"A  man  of  the  name  of  Henry  Thornhill." 

"I  do  riot  know  him  but  he  is  curiously  well  in- 
formed. Arnold  is  an  able  officer.  We  have  not 
many  like  him.  He  is  needed  here  for  I  have  to  go 
on  a  long  trip  to  eastern  Connecticut  to  confer  with 
Rochambeau.  In  the  event  of  some  unforeseen  crisis 
Arnold  would  know  what  to  do." 

Then  Jack  spoke  out:  "General,  I  ought  to  have 
reported  to  you  the  exact  words  of  Governor  Reed. 
They  were  severe,  perhaps,  even,  unjust.  I  have  not 
repeated  them  to  any  one.  But  now  I  think  you 
should  know  their  full  content  and  judge  of  them  in 
your  own  way.  The  Governor  insists  that  Arnold  is 

37* 


LOVE  AND  TREASON  377 

bad  at  heart — that  he  would  sell  his  master  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver." 

Washington  made  no  reply,  for  a  moment,  and 
then  his  words  seemed  to  have  no  necessary  relation 
to  those  of  Jack  Irons. 

"General  Arnold  has  been  badly  cut  up  in  many 
battles,'*  said  he.  "I  wish  him  to  be  relieved  of  all 
trying  details.  You  are  an  able  and  prudent  man. 
I  shall  make  you  his  chief  aide  with  the  rank  of 
Brigadier-General.  He  needs  rest  and  will  concern 
himself  little  with  the  daily  routine.  In  my  absence, 
you  will  be  the  superintendent  of  the  camp,  and  sub- 
ject to  orders  I  shall  leave  with  you.  Colonel  Binkus 
will  be  your  helper.  I  hope  that  you  may  be  able  to 
keep  yourself  on  friendly  terms  with  the  General." 

Jack  reported  to  the  Commander-in-Chief  the  warn- 
ing of  Thornhill,  but  the  former  made  light  of  it. 

"The  air  is  full  of  evil  gossip,"  he  said.  "You  may 
hear  it  of  me." 

When  they  rode  up  to  headquarters  Arnold  was 
there.  To  Jack's  surprise  the  Major-General  greeted 
him  with  friendly  words,  saying: 

"I  hope  to  know  you  better  for  I  have  heard  much 
of  your  courage  and  fighting  quality." 

"There  are  good  soldiers  here,"  said  Jack.  "If  I 
am  one  of  them  it  is  partly  because  I  have  seen  you 
fight.  You  have  given  all  of  us  the  inspiration  of  a 
great  example." 

It    was    a    sincere    and    deserved    tribute. 


378    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

On  the  third  of  August — the  precise  date  named  by 
Henry  Thornhill — Arnold  took  command  of  the  camp 
and  Irons  assumed  his  new  duties.  The  Major-Gen- 
eral rode  with  Washington  every  day  until,  on  the 
fourteenth  of  September,  the  latter  set  out  with  three 
aides  and  Colonel  Binkus  on  his  trip  to  Connecticut. 
Solomon  rode  with  the  party  for  two  days  and  then  re- 
turned. Thereafter  Arnold  left  the  work  of  his  office  to 
Jack  and  gave  his  time  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  com- 
pany of  his  wife  and  a  leisure  that  suffered  little  inter- 
ruption. For  him,  grim  visaged  war  had  smoothed 
his  wrinkled  front.  Like  Richard  he  had  hung  up  his 
bruised  arms.  The  day  of  Washington's  departure, 
Mrs.  Arnold  invited  Jack  to  dinner.  The  young  man 
felt  bound  to  accept  this  opportunity  for  more  friendl}' 
relations. 

Mrs.  Arnold  was  a  handsome,  vivacious,  blonde 
young  woman  of  thirty.  The  officer  speaks  in  a 
letter  of  her  lively  talk  and  winning  smiles  and  splen- 
did figure,  well  fitted  with  a  costume  that  reminded 
him  of  the  court  ladies  in  France. 

"What  a  contrast  to  the  worn,  patched  uniforms 
to  be  seen  in  that  camp!"  he  added. 

Soon  after  the  dinner  began,  Mrs.  Arnold  said  to 
the  young  man,  "We  have  heard  of  your  romance. 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Hare  and  their  young  daughter 
spent  a  week  in  our  home  in  Philadelphia  on  their 
first  trip  to  the  colonies.  Later  Mrs.  Hare  wrote  to 
my  mother  of  their  terrible  adventure  in  the  great 


LOVE  AND  TREASON  379 

north  bush  and  spoke  of  Margaret's  attachment  for 
the  handsome  boy  who  had  helped  to  rescue  them,  so 
I  have  some  right  to  my  interest  in  you." 

"And  therefor  I  thank  you  and  congratulate  my- 
self," said  the  young  man.  "It  is  a  little  world  after 
all." 

"And  your  story  has  been  big  enough  to  fill  it," 
she  went  on.  "The  ladies  in  Philadelphia  seem  to 
know  all  its  details.  We  knew  only  how  it  began. 
They  have  told  us  of  the  thrilling  duel  and  how  the 
young  lovers  were  separated  by  the  war  and  how  you 
were  sent  out  of  England." 

"You  astonish  me,"  said  the  officer.  "I  did  not 
imagine  that  my  humble  affairs  would  interest  any 
one  but  myself  and  my  family.  I  suppose  that  Doctor 
Franklin  must  have  been  talking  about  them.  The 
dear  old  soul  is  the  only  outsider  who  knows  the 
facts." 

"And  if  he  had  kept  them  to  himself  he  would  have 
been  the  most  inhuman  wretch  in  the  world,"  said 
Mrs.  Arnold.  "Women  have  their  rights.  They 
need  something  better  to  talk  about  than  Acts  of 
Parliament  and  taxes  and  war  campaigns.  I  thank 
God  that  no  man  can  keep  such  a  story  to  himself. 
He  has  to  have  some  one  to  help  him  enjoy  it.  A  good 
love-story  is  like  murder.  It  will  out." 

"It  has  caused  me  a  lot  of  misery  and  a  lot  of 
happiness,"  said  the  young  man. 

"I  long  to  see  the  end  of  it,"  the  woman  went  on. 


380    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  happen  to  know  a  detail  in  your  story  which  may 
be  new  to  you.  Miss  Hare  is  now  in  New  York." 

"In  New  York!" 

"Oddso!  In  New  York!  We  heard  in  Philadelphia 
that  she  and  her  mother  had  sailed  with  Sir  Roger 
Waite  in  March.  How  jolly  it  would  be  if  the  Gen- 
eral and  I  could  bring  you  together  and  have  a 
wedding  at  headquarters!'' 

"I  could  think  of  no  greater  happiness  save  that 
of  seeing  the  end  of  the  war,"  Jack  answered. 

"The  war!  That  is  a  little  matter.  I  want  to  see 
a  proper  end  to  this  love-story." 

She  laughed  and  ran  to  the  spinnet  and  sang  Shep- 
herds, I  Have  Lost  My  Love. 

The  General  would  seem  to  have  been  in  bad  spirits. 
He  had  spoken  not  half  a  dozen  words.  To  him  the 
talk  of  the  others  had  been  as  spilled  water.  Jack 
has  described  him  as  a  man  of  "unstable  tempera- 
ment." 

The  young  man's  visit  was  interrupted  by  Solomon 
who  came  to  tell  him  that  he  was  needed  in  the  matter 
of  a  quarrel  between  some  of  the  new  recruits. 

Jack  and  Solomon  exercised  unusual  care  in  guard- 
ing the  camp  and  organizing  for  defense  in  case  of 
attack.  It  was  soon  after  Washington's  departure 
that  Arnold  went  away  on  the  road  to  the  south. 
Solomon  followed  keeping  out  of  his  field  of  vision. 
The  General  returned  two  davs  later.  Solomon  came 


LOVE  AND  TREASON  381 

into  Jack's  hut  about  midnight  of  the  day  of  Arnold's 
return  with  important  news. 

Jack  was  at  his  desk  studying  a  map  of  the  High- 
lands. The  camp  was  at  rest.  The  candle  in  Jack's 
hut  was  the  only  sign  of  life  around  headquarters 
when  Solomon,  having  put  out  his  horse,  came  to  talk 
with  his  young  friend.  He  stepped  close  to  the  desk, 
swallowed  nervously  and  began  his  whispered  report. 
"Suthin'  neevarious  be  goin'  on,"  he  began.  "A 
British  ship  were  lyin'  nigh  the  mouth  o'  the  Croton 
River.  Arnold  went  aboard.  An'  officer  got  into  his 
boat  with  him  an'  they  pulled  over  to  the  west  shore 
and  went  into  the  bush.  Stayed  thar  till  mos'  night 
If  'twere  honest  business,  why  did  they  go  off  in  the 
bush  alone  fer  a  talk?" 
Jack  shook  his  head. 

"Soon  as  I  seen  that  I  went  to  one  o'  our  batteries 
an'  tol"  the  Cap'n  what  were  on  my  mind. 

"  'Damn  the  ol'  British  tub.  We'll  make  'er  back 
up  a  little,'  sez  he.  'She's  too  clus  anyhow.' 

"Then  he  let  go  a  shot  that  ripped  the  water  front 
o'  her  bow.  Say,  Jack,  they  were  some  hoppin'  eround 
on  the  deck  o'  the  big  British  war  sloop.  They  h'isted 
her  sails  an'  she  fell  away  down  the  river  a  mile  'er 
so.  The  sun  were  set  when  Arnold  an'  the  officer 
come  out  o'  the  bush.  I  were  in  a  boat  with  a  fish 
rod  an'  could  jes'  see  'em  with  my  spy-glass,  the  light 
were  so  dim.  They  stood  thar  lookin'  fer  the  ship. 


382.    IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  couldn't  see  her.  They  went  back  into  the  bush. 
It  come  to  me  what  they  was  goin'  to  do.  Arnold 
were  a-goinj  to  take  the  Britisher  over  to  the  house 
o'  that  ol'  Tory,  Reub  Smith.  I  got  thar  fust  an'  hid 
in  the  bushes  front  o'  the  house.  Sure  'nough! — 
that's  what  were  done.  Arnold  an'  t'  other  feller 
come  erlong  an'  went  into  the  house.  Twere  so  dark 
I  couldn't  see  'em  but  I  knowed  'twere  them." 

"How?"  the  young  man  asked. 

"  'Cause  they  didn't  light  no  candle.  They  sot  in 
the  dark  an'  they  didn't  talk  out  loud  like  honest  men 
would.  I  come  erway.  I  couldn't  do  no  more." 

"I  think  you've  done  well,"  said  Jack.  "Now  go 
and  get  some  rest.  To-morrow  may  be  a  hard  day." 

2 

Jack  spent  a  bad  night  in  the  effort  to  be  as  great 
as  his  problem.  In  the  morning  he  sent  Solomon  and 
three  other  able  scouts  to  look  the  ground  over  east, 
west  and  south  of  the  army.  One  of  them  was  to 
take  the  road  to  Hartford  and  deliver  a  message  to 
Washington. 

After  the  noon  mess,  Arnold  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  away  alone.  The  young  Brigadier  sent  for  his 
trusted  friend,  Captain  Merriwether. 

"Captain,  the  General  has  set  out  on  the  east  road 
alone,"  said  Jack.  "He  is  not  well.  There's  some- 
thing wrong  with  his  heart.  I  am  a  little  worried 
about  him.  He  ought  not  to  be  traveling  alone.  My 
horse  is  in  front  of  the  door.  Jump  on  his  back  and 


LOVE  AND  TREASON  383 

keep  in  sight  of  the  General,  but  don't  let  him  know 
what  you  are  doing." 

A  little  later  Mrs.  Arnold  entered  the  office  of  the 
new  Brigadier  in  a  most  cheerful  mood. 

"I  have  good  news  for  you,"  she  announced. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Soon  I  hope  to  make  a  happy  ending  of  your  love* 
story." 

"God  prosper  you,"  said  the  young  man. 

She  went  on  with  great  animation:  "A  British 
officer  has  come  in  a  ship  under  a  flag  of  truce  to  con- 
fer with  General  Arnold.  I  sent  a  letter  to  Margaret 
Hare  on  my  own  responsibility  with  the  General'r> 
official  communication.  I  invited  her  to  come  with 
the  party  and  promised  her  safe  conduct  to  our  house. 
I  expect  her.  For  the  rest  we  look  to  you." 

The  young  man  wrote:  "This  announcement 
almost  took  my  breath.  My  joy  was  extinguished  by 
apprehension  before  it  could  show  itself.  I  did  not 
speak,  being  for  a  moment  confused  and  blinded  by 
lightning  flashes  of  emotion." 

"It  is  your  chance  to  bring  the  story  to  a  pretty 
end,"  she  went  on.  "Let  us  have  a  wedding  at  head- 
quarters. On  the  night  of  the  twenty-eighth,  General 
Washington  will  have  returned.  He  has  agreed  to 
dine  with  us  that  evening." 

"I  think  that  she  must  have  observed  the  shadow 
on  my  face  for,  while  she  spoke,  a  great  fear  had 
come  upon  me,"  he  testified  in  the  Court  of  Inquiry. 


384     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"It  seemed  clear  to  me  that,  if  there  was  a  plot,  the 
capture  of  Washington  himself  was  to  be  a  part  of 
it  and  my  sweetheart  a  helpful  accessory." 

"'Are  you  not  pleased?'  Mrs.  Arnold  asked. 

"I  shook  off  my  fear  and  answered :  'Forgive  me. 
It  is  all  so  unexpected  and  so  astonishing  and  so  very 
good  of  you !  It  has  put  my  head  in  a  whirl.' 

"Gentlemen,  I  could  see  no  sinister  motive  in  this 
romantic  enterprise  of  Mrs.  Arnold,"  the  testimony 
proceeds.  "I  have  understood  that  her  sympathies 
were  British  but,  if  so,  she  had  been  discreet  enough 
in  camp  to  keep  them  to  herself.  Whatever  they  may 
have  been,  I  felt  as  sure  then,  as  I  do  now,  that  she 
was  a  good  woman.  Her  kindly  interest  in  my  little 
romance  was  just  a  bit  of  honest,  human  nature.  It 
pleased  me  and  when  I  think  of  her  look  of  innocent, 
unguarded,  womanly  frankness,  I  can  not  believe  that 
she  had  had  the  least  part  in  the  dark  intrigue  of  her 
husband. 

"I  arose  and  kissed  her  hand  and  I  remember  well 
the  words  I  spoke:  'Madame,'  I  said,  'let  me  not  try 
now  to  express  my  thanks.  I  shall  need  time  for 
friendly  action  and  well  chosen  words.  Do  you  think 
that  Margaret  will  fall  in  with  your  plans  ?' 

"She  answered : 

"  'How  can  she  help  it?  She  is  a  woman.  Havt 
you  not  both  been  waiting  these  many  years  for  the 
chance  to  marry?  I  think  that  I  know  a  woman's 
heart* 


LOVE  AND  TREASON  385 

"  'You  know  much  that  I  am  eager  to  know,'  I  said 
'The  General  has  not  told  me  that  he  is  to  meet  the 
British.  May  I  know  all  the  good  news?' 

'*  'Of  course  he  will  tell  you  about  that,'  she  as- 
sured me.  'He  has  told  me  only  a  little.  It  is  some 
negotiation  regarding  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  I 
am  much  more  interested  in  Margaret  and  the 
wedding.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  her.  I 
have  heard  that  she  has  become  very  beautiful.' 

"I  showed  Mrs.  Arnold  the  miniature  portrait  which 
Margaret  had  given  me  the  day  of  our  little  ride  and 
talk  in  London  and  then  an  orderly  came  with  a 
message  and  that  gave  me  an  excuse  to  put  an  end 
to  this  untimely  babbling  for  which  I  had  no  heart. 
The  message  was  from  Solomon.  He  had  got  word 
that  the  British  war-ship  had  come  back  up  the  river 
and  was  two  miles  above  Stony  Point  with  a  white 
flag  at  her  masthead. 

"My  nerves  were  as  taut  as  a  fiddle  string.  A 
cloud  of  mystery  enveloped  the  camp  and  I  was  unable 
to  see  my  way.  Was  the  whole  great  issue  for  which 
so  many  of  us  had  perished  and  fought  and  endured 
all  manner  of  hardships,  being  bartered  away  in  the 
absence  of  our  beloved  Commander?  I  have  suffered 
much  but  never  was  my  spirit  so  dragged  and  torn 
as  when  I  had  my  trial  in  the  thorny  way  of  distrust. 
I  have  had  my  days  of  conceit  when  I  felt  equal  to 
the  work  of  Washington,  but  there  was  no  conceit  in 
me  then.  Face  to  face  with  the  looming  peril,  of 


386     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

which  warning  had  come  to  me,  I  felt  my  own  weak- 
ness and  the  need  of  his  masterful  strength. 

"I  went  out-of-doors.  Soon  I  met  Merriwether 
coming  into  camp.  Arnold  had  returned.  He  had 
ridden  at  a  walk  toward  the  headquarters  of  the 
Second  Brigade  and  turned  about  and  come  back 
without  speaking  to  any  one.  Arnold  was  looking 
down  as  if  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  when  Merri- 
wether passed  him  in  the  road.  He  did  not  return 
the  latter's  salute.  It  was  evident  that  the  General 
had  ridden  away  for  the  sole  purpose  of  being  alone. 

"I  went  back  to  my  hut  and  sat  down  to  try  to  find 
my  way  when  suddenly  the  General  appeared  at  my 
door  on  his  bay  mare  and  asked  me  to  take  a  little  ride 
with  him.  I  mounted  my  horse  and  we  rode  out  on 
the  east  road  together  for  half  a  mile  or  so. 

"  'I  believe  that  my  wife  had  some  talk  with  you 
this  morning/  he  began. 

"  'Yes/  I  answered. 

"  'A  British  officer  has  come  up  the  river  in  a  ship 
under  a  white  flag  with  a  proposal  regarding  an  ex- 
change of  prisoners.  In  my  answer  to  their  request 
for  a  conference,  some  time  ago,  I  enclosed  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Arnold  to  Miss  Margaret  Hare  inviting 
her  to  come  to  our  home  where  she  would  find  a  hearty 
welcome  and  her  lover — now  an  able  and  most  valued 
officer  of  the  staff.  A  note  received  yesterday  says 
that  Miss  Hare  is  one  of  the  party.  We  are  glad  to 
be  able  to  do  you  this  little  favor/ 


LOVE  AND  TREASON  387 

"I  thanked  him. 

"  'I  wish  that  you  could  go  with  me  down  the 
river  to  meet  her  in  the  morning,'  he  said.  'But  in 
my  absence  it  will,  of  course,  be  necessary  for  you  to 
be  on  duty.  Mrs.  Arnold  will  go  with  me  and  we 
shall,  I  hope,  bring  the  young  lady  safely  to  head- 
quarters.' 

"He  was  preoccupied.  His  face  wore  a  serious 
look.  There  was  a  melancholy  note  in  his  tone — I 
had  observed  that  in  other  talks  with  him— but  it 
was  a  friendly  tone.  It  tended  to  put  my  fears  at 
rest. 

"I  asked  the  General  what  he  thought  of  the  pros- 
pects of  our  cause. 

"  'They  are  not  promising,'  he  answered.  'The 
defeat  of  Gates  in  the  south  and  the  scattering  of 
his  army  in  utter  rout  is  not  an  encouraging  event.' 

"  'I  think  that  we  shall  get  along  better  now  that 
the  Gates  bubble  has  burst,'  I  answered." 

This  ends  the  testimony  of  "the  able  iand  most 
valued  officer,"  Jack  Irons,  Jr, 


CHAPTER  XXX 

"'WHO  IS   SHE   THAT   LOOKETH    FORTH    AS   THE   MORN- 
ING, FAIR  AS  THE  MOON,  CLEAR  AS  THE  SUN,  AND 
TERRIBLE   AS   AN    ARMY    WITH    BANNERS?" 

THE  American  army  had  been  sold  by  Arnold. 
The  noble  ideal  it  had  cherished,  the  blood  it  had 
given,  the  bitter  hardships  it  had  suffered — torture 
in  the  wilderness,  famine  in  the  Highlands,  long 
marches  of  half  naked  men  in  mid- winter,  massacres 
at  Wyoming  and  Cherry  Valley — all  this  had  been 
bartered  away,  like  a  shipload  of  turnips,  to  satisfy 
the  greed  of  one  man.  Again  thirty  pieces  of  silver! 
Was  a  nation  to  walk  the  bitter  way  to  its  Calvary? 
Major  Andre,  the  Adjutant-General  of  Sir  Henry 
Clinton's  large  force  in  New  York,  was  with  the 
traitor  when  he  rowed  from  the  ship  to  the  west 
shore  of  the  Hudson  and  went  into  the  bush  under  the 
observation  of  Solomon  with  his  spy-glass.  Arnold 
was  to  receive  a  command  and  large  pay  in  the  British 
army.  The  consideration  had  been  the  delivery  of 
maps  showing  the  positions  of  Washington's  men 
and  the  plans  of  his  forts  and  other  defenses,  especially 
those  of  Forts  Putnam  and  Clinton  and  Battery  Knox. 
Much  other  information  was  put  in  the  hands  of  the 
British  officer,  including  the  prospective  movements 
of  the  Commander-in-Chief.  He  was  to  be  taken  in 

388 


AS  AN  ARMY  WITH  BANNERS        389 

the  house  of  the  man  he  had  befriended.  Andre  had 
only  to  reach  New  York  with  his  treasure  and  Arnold 
to  hold  the  confidence  of  his  chief  for  a  few  days  and, 
before  the  leaves  had  fallen,  the  war  would  end.  The 
American  army  and  its  master  mind  would  be  at  the 
mercy  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 

Those  September  days  the  greatest  love-story  this 
world  had  known  was  feeling  its  way  in  a  cloud  of 
mystery.  The  thrilling  tale  of  Man  and  Liberty, 
which  had  filled  the  dreams  of  sage  and  poet,  had 
been  near  ing  its  golden  hours.  Of  a  surety,  at  last, 
it  would  seem  the  lovers  were  to  be  wed.  What 
time,  in  the  flying  ages,  they  had  greeted  each  other 
with  hearts  full  of  the  hope  of  peace  and  happiness, 
some  tyrant  king  and  his  armies  had  come  between 
them.  Then  what  a  carnival  of  lust,  rapine  and 
bloody  murder!  Man  was  broken  on  the  wheel  of 
power  and  thwarted  Hope  sat  brooding  in .  his  little 
house.  History  had  been  a  long  siege,  like  that  of 
Troy,  to  deliver  a  fairer  Helen  from  the  established 
power  of  Kings.  Now,  beyond  three  thousand  miles 
of  sea,  supported  by  the  strength  of  the  hills  and 
hearts  informed  and  sworn  to  bitter  duty,  Man,  at 
last,  had  found  his  chance.  Again  Liberty,  in  robes 
white  as  snow  and  sweet  as  the  morning,  beckoned  to 
her  lover.  Another  king  was  come  with  his  armies 
to  keep  them  apart.  The  armies  being  baffled,  Satan 
had  come  also  and  spread  his  hidden  snares.  Could 
Satan  prevail  ?  Was  the  story  nearing  another  failure 


390     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

;— a  tragedy  dismal  and  complete  as  that  of  Ther- 
mopylae? 

This  day  we  shall  know.  This  day  holds  the 
moment  which  is  to  round  out  the  fulness  of  time.  It 
is  the  twenty-third  of  September,  1780,  and  the  sky 
is  clear.  Now  as  the  clock  ticks  its  hours  away,  we 
may  watch  the  phrases  of  the  capable  Author  of  the 
great  story  as  they  come  from  His  pen.  His  most 
useful  characters  are  remote  and  unavailable.  It 
would  seem  that  the  villain  was  likely  to  have  his 
way.  The  Author  must  defeat  him,  if  possible,  with 
some  stroke  of  ingenuity.  For  this  He  was  not  unpre- 
pared. 

Before  the  day  begins  it  will  be  well  to  review, 
briefly,  the  hours  that  preceded  it. 

Andre  would  have  reached  New  York  that  night  if 
The  Vulture  had  not  changed  her  position  on  account 
of  a  shot  from  the  battery  below  Stony  Point.  For 
that,  credit  must  be  given  to  the  good  scout  Solomon 
Binkus.  The  ship  was  not  in  sight  when  the  two 
men  came  out  in  their  boat  from  the  west  shore  of  the 
river  while  the  night  was  falling.  Arnold  had  heard 
the  shot  and  now  that  the  ship  had  left  her  anchorage 
a  fear  must  have  come  to  him  that  his  treachery  was 
suspected. 

"I  may  want  to  get  away  in  that  boat  myself,"  he 
suggested  to  Andre. 

"She  will  not  return  until  she  gets  orders  from  you 
or  me,"  the  Britisher  assured  him. 


AS  AN  ARMY  WITH  BANNERS         391 

"I  wonder  what  has  become  of  her,"  said  Arnold. 

"She  has  probably  dropped  down  the  river  for  some 
reason,"  Andre  answered.  "What  am  I  to  do?" 

"I'll  take  you  to  the  house  of  a  man  I  know  who 
lives  near  the  river  and  send  you  to  New  York  by 
horse  with  passports  in  the  morning.  You  can  reach 
the  British  lines  to-morrow." 

"I  would  like  that,"  Andre  exclaimed.  "It  would 
afford  me  a  welcome  survey  of  the  terrain." 

"Smith  will  give  you  a  suit  of  clothes  that  will  fit 
you  well  enough,"  said  the  traitor.  "You  and  he  are 
about  of  a  size.  It  will  be  better  for  you  to  be  in 
citizen's  dress." 

So  it  happened  that  in  the  darkness  of  the  September 
evening  Smith  and  Andre,  the  latter  riding  the  blazed- 
face  mare,  set  out  for  King's  Ferry,  where  they  were 
taken  across  the  river.  They  rode  a  few  miles  south 
of  the  landing  to  the  shore  of  Crom  Pond  and  spent 
the  night  with  a  friend  of  Smith.  In  the  morning  the 
latter  went  on  with  Andre  until  they  had  passed  Pine's 
Bridge  on  the  Croton  River.  Then  he  turned  back. 

Now  Andre  fared  along  down  the  road  alone  on 
the  back  of  the  mare  Nancy.  He  came  to  an  outpost 
of  the  Highland  army  and  presented  his  pass.  It 
was  examined  and  endorsed  and  he  went  on  his  way. 
He  met  transport  wagons,  a  squad  of  cavalry  and, 
later,  a  regiment  of  militia  coming  up  from  western 
Connecticut,  but  no  one  stopped  him.  In  the  faded 
hat  and  coat  and  trousers  of  Reuben  Smith,  this  man, 


392     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

who  called  himself  John  Anderson,  was  not  much 
unlike  the  farmer  folk  who  were  riding  hither  and 
thither  in  the  neutral  territory,  on  their  petit  errands. 
His  face  was  different.  It  was  the  well  kept  face  of 
an  English  aristocrat  with  handsome  dark  eyes  and 
hair  beginning  to  turn  gray.  Still,  shadowed  by  the 
brim  of  the  old  hat,  his  face  was  not  likely  to  attract 
much  attention  from  the  casual  observer.  The  hand- 
some mare  he  rode  was  a  help  in  this  matter.  She 
took  and  held  the  eyes  of  those  who  passed  him.  He 
went  on  unchallenged.  A  little  past  the  hour  of  the 
high  sun  he  stopped  to  drink  at  a  wayside  spring  and 
to  give  his  horse  some  oats  out  of  one  of  the  saddle- 
bags. It  was  then  that  a  patriot  soldier  came  along 
riding  northward.  He  was  one  of  Solomon's  scouts. 
The  latter  stopped  to  let  his  horse  drink.  As  his 
keen  eyes  surveyed  the  south-bound  traveler,  John 
Anderson  felt  his  danger.  At  that  moment  the  scout 
was  within  reach  of  immortal  fame  had  he  only 
known  it.  He  .was  not  so  well  informed  as  Solomon. 
He  asked  a  few  questions  and  called  for  the  pass  of 
the  stranger.  That  was  unquestionable.  The  scout 
resumed  his  journey. 

Andre  resolved  not  to  stop  again.  He  put  the  bit 
in  the  mare's  mouth,  mounted  her  and  rode  on  with 
his  treasure.  The  most  difficult  part  of  his  journey 
was  behind  him.  Within  twelve  hours  he  should  be 
at  Clinton's  headquarters. 

Suddenly  he  came  to  a  fork  in  the  road  and  held 


AS  AN  ARMY  WITH  BANNERS         393 

up  his  horse,  uncertain  which  way  to  go.     Now  the 
great  moment  was  come.     Shall  he  turn  to  the  right 
or  the  left?    On  his  decision  rests  the  fate  of  the  New 
World  and  one  of  the  most  vital  issues  in  all  history, 
it  would  seem.     The  left-hand  road  would  have  taken 
him  safely  to  New  York,  it  is  fair  to  assume.     He 
hesitates.     The  day  is  waning.     It  is  a  lonely  piece 
of  road.     There  is  no  one  to  tell  him.     The  mare 
shows  a  preference  for  the  turn  to  the  right.     Why? 
Because  it  leads  to  Tarrytown,  her  former  home,  and 
a  good  master.     Andre  lets  her  have  her  way.     She 
hurries  on,  for  she  knows  where  there  is  food  and 
drink  and  gentle  hands.    So  a  leg  of  the  mighty  hazard 
has  been  safely  won  by  the  mare  Nancy.     The  officer 
rode  on,  and  what  now  was  in  his  way?     A  wonder 
and  a  mystery  greater  even  than  that  of  Nancy  and  the 
fork  in  the  road.     A  little  out  of  Tarrytown  on  the 
highway  the  horseman  traveled,  a  group  of  three  men 
were  hidden  in  the  bush — ragged,  reckless,  unlettered 
country  lads  waiting  for  cows  to  come  down  out  of 
the  wild  land  to  be  milked.     They  were  "skinners"  in 
the  patriot  militia,  some  have  said ;  some  that  they  were 
farmers'  sons  not  in  the  army.     However  that  may 
have  been,  they  were  undoubtedly  rough,  hard-fisted 
fellows  full  of  the  lawless  spirit  bred  by  five  years  of 
desperate  warfare.     They  were  looking  for  Tories  as 
well  as  for  cattle.    Tories  were  their  richest  prey,  for 
the  latter  would  give  high  rewards  to  be  excused  from 
the  oath  of  allegiance. 


394     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

They  came  out  upon  Andre  and  challenged  him. 
The  latter  knew  that  he  had  passed  the  American  out- 
posts and  thought  that  he  was  near  the  British  lines. 
He  was  not  familiar  with  the  geography  of  the  upper 
east  shore.  He  knew  that  the  so-called  neutral  terri- 
tory was  overrun  by  two  parties — the  British  being 
called  the  "Lower"  and  the  Yankees  the  "Upper." 

"What  party  do  you  belong  to  ?"  Andre  demanded. 

"The  Lower/'  said  one  of  the  Yankees. 

It  was,  no  doubt,  a  deliberate  lie  calculated  to  in- 
spire frankness  in  a  possible  Tory.  That  was  the 
moment  for  Andre  to  have  produced  his  passports, 
which  would  have  opened  the  road  for  him.  Instead 
he  committed  a  fatal  error,  the  like  of  which  it  would 
be  hard  to  find  in  all  the  records  of  human  action. 

"I  am  a  British  officer,"  he  declared.  "Please 
take  me  to  your  post." 

They  were  keen-minded  men  who  quickly  sur- 
rounded him.  A  British  officer!  Why  was  he  in 
the  dress  of  a  Yankee  farmer?  The  pass  could  not 
save  him  now  from  these  rough,  strong  handed  fel- 
lows. The  die  was  cast.  They  demanded  the  right 
of  search.  He  saw  his  error  and  changed  his  plea. 

"I  am  only  a  citizen  of  New  York  returning  from 
family  business  in  the  country,"  he  said. 

He  drew  his  gold  watch  from  his  pocket — that 
unfailing  sign  of  the  gentleman  of  fortune — and 
looked  at  its  dial. 


AS  AN  ARMY  WITH  BANNERS         395 

"You  can  see  I  am  no  common  fellow,"  he  added. 
"Let  me  go  on  about  my  business." 

They  firmly  insisted  on  their  right  to  search  him. 
He  began  to  be  frightened.  He  offered  them  his 
watch  and  a  purse  full  of  gold  and  any  amount  of 
British  goods  to  be  allowed  to  go  on  his  way. 

Now  here  is  the  wonder  and  the  mystery  in  this 
remarkable  proceeding.  These  men  were  seeking 
plunder  and  here  was  a  handsome  prospect.  Why 
did  they  not  make  the  most  of  it  and  be  content? 
The  "skinners"  were  plunderers,  but  first  of  all  and 
above  all  they  were  patriots.  The  spirit  brooding 
over  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson  and  the  hills  of 
New  England  had  entered  their  hearts.  The  man 
who  called  himself  John  Anderson  was  compelled 
to  dismount  and  empty  his  pockets  and  take  off  his 
boots,  in  one  of  which  was  the  damning  evidence  of 
Arnold's  perfidy.  A  fortune  was  then  within  the 
reach  of  these  three  hard-working  men  of  the  hills, 
but  straightway  they  took  their  prisoner  and  the 
papers,  found  in  his  boot,  to  the  outpost  commanded 
by  Colonel  Jameson. 

This  negotiation  for  the  sale  of  the  United  States 
had  met  with  unexpected  difficulties.  The  "skinners" 
had  been  as  hard  to  buy  as  the  learned  diplomat. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE   LOVERS   AND   SOLOMON'S   LAST    FIGHT 

MEANWHILE,  Margaret  and  her  mother  had  come 
up  the  river  in  a  barge  with  General  and  Mrs.  Arnold 
to  the  house  of  the  latter.  Jack  had  gone  out  on  a 
tour  of  inspection.  He  had  left  headquarters  after 
the  noon  meal  with  a  curious  message  in  his  pocket 
and  a  feeling  of  great  relief.  The  message  had  been 
delivered  to  him  by  the  mother  of  a  captain  in  one 
of  the  regiments.  She  said  that  it  had  been  given  to 
her  by  a  man  whom  she  did  not  know.  Jack  had  been 
busy  when  it  came  and  did  not  open  it  until  she  had 
gone  away.  It  was  an  astonishing  and  most  welcome 
message  in  the  flowing  script  of  a  rapid  penman,  but 
clearly  legible.  It  was  without  date  and  very  brief. 
These  were  the  cheering  words  in  it : 

"Mv  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  have  good  news  from  down 
the  river.  The  danger  is  passed. 

"HENRY  THORNHILL," 

"Well.  Henry  Thornhill  is  a  man  who  knows 
whereof  he  speaks,"  the  young  officer  said  to  himself, 
as  he  rode  away.  "I  should  like  to  meet  him  again." 

That  day  the  phrase  "Good  news  from  down  the 

396 


SOLOMON'S  LAST   FIGHT  397 

river"  came  repeatedly  back  to  him.  He  wondered 
what  it  meant. 

Jack  being  out  of  camp,  Margaret  had  found  Solo- 
mon. Toward  the  day's  end  he  had  gone  out  on  the 
south  road  with  the  young  lady  and  her  mother  and 
Mrs.  Arnold. 

Jack  was  riding  into  camp  from  an  outpost  of  the 
army.  The  day  was  in  its  twilight.  He  had  been 
riding  fast.  He  pulled  up  his  horse  as  he  approached 
a  sentry  post.  Three  figures  were  standing  in  the 
dusky  road. 

"Halt !     Who  comes  there  ?"  one  of  them  sang  out. 

It  was  the  voice  of  Margaret.  Its  challenge  was 
more  like  a  phrase  of  music  than  a  demand.  He  dis- 
mounted. 

"I  am  one  of  the  great  army  of  lovers,"  said  he. 

"Advance  and  give  the  countersign,"  she  com- 
manded. 

A  moment  he  held  her  in  his  embrace  and  then  he 
whispered:  "I  love  you." 

"The  countersign  is  correct,  but  before  I  let  you 
pass,  give  me  one  more  look  into  your  heart." 

"As  many  as  you  like — but — why?" 

"So  I  may  be  sure  that  you  do  not  blame  England 
for  the  folly  of  her  King." 

"I  swear  it." 

"Then  I  shall  enlist  with  you  against  the  tyrant. 
He  has  never  been  my  King." 

Lady  Hare  stood  with  Mrs.  Arnold  near  the  lovers. 


39$     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  too  demand  the  countersign,"  said  the  latter. 

"And  much  goes  with  it,"  said  the  young  man  as 
he  kissed  her,  and  then  he  embraced  the  mother  of 
his  sweetheart  and  added : 
.  "I  hop£  that  you  are  also  to  enlist  with  us." 

"No,  I  am  to  leave  my  little  rebel  with  you  and  re- 
turn to  New  York." 

;    Solomon,  who  had  stood  back  in  the  edge  of  the 
bush,  approached  them  and  said  to  Lady  Hare : 

."I  guess  if  the  truth  was  known,  they's  more  rebels 
in  England  than  thar  be  in  Ameriky." 
.    He  turned  to  Jack  and  added : 
r  <:  "My  son,  you're  a  reg'lar  Tory  privateer — grab- 
bin'  for  gold.     Give  'em  one  a  piece  fer  me." 

Margaret  ran  upon  the  old  scout  and  kissed  his 
bearded  cheek. 

"Reg'lar  lightnin'  hurler!"  said  he.  "Soon  as  this 
'ere  war  is  over  I'll  take  a  bee  line  fer  hum — you  hear 
to  me.  This  makes  me  sick  o'  fightin'." 

"Will  you  give  me  a  ride?"  Margaret  asked  her 
lover.  "I'll  get  on  behind  you." 

Solomon  took  off  the  saddle  and  tightened  the 
blanket  girth. 

"Thar,  'tain't  over  clean,  but  now  ye  kin  both  ride," 
said  he. 

Soon  the  two  were  riding1,  she  in  front,  as  they 
had  ridden  long  before  through  the  shady,  mallowed 
bush  in  Tryon  County. 


SOLOMON'S  LAST  FIGHT  399 

"Oh,  that  we  could  hear  the  thrush's  song  again!" 

"I  can  hear  it  sounding  through  the  years,"  ti£ 
answered.  uAs  life  goes  on  with  me  I  hear  many  an 
echo  from  the  days  of  my  youth." 

They  rode  a  while  in  silence  as  the  night  fell. 

"Again  the  world  is  beautiful!"  she  exclaimed. 

"But  now  it  is  the  beauty  of  the  night  and  the  stars," 
he  answered. 
.'    "How  they  glow!" 

"I  think  it  is  because  the  light  of  the  future  is  shin- 
ing on  them." 

"It  is  the  light  of  peace  and  happiness.  I  am  glad 
to  be  free." 

"Soon  your  people  shall  be  free,"  he  answered  her. 
-"My  people?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  the  American  army  strong  enough  to  do  it?" 

"No." 

"The  French?" 

"No." 

"Who  then  is  to  free  us?" 

"God  and  His  ocean  and  His  hills  and  forests  and 
rivers  and  these  children  of  His  in  America,  who  have 
been  schooled  to  know  their  rights.  After  this  King 
is  broken  there  will  be  no  other  like  him  in  England." 

They  dismounted  at  Arnold's  door. 

"For  a  time  I  shall  have  much  to  do,  but  soon  1 
hope  for  great  promotion  and  more  leisure,"  he  said. 

"Tell  me  the  good  news,"  she  urged. 


400     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

"I  expect  to  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  army,  and 
the  master  of  this  house  and  your  husband." 

"And  you  and  I  shall  be  as  one,"  she  answered. 
"God  speed  the  day  when  that  may  be  true  also  of 
your  people  and  my  people." 

2 

He  kissed  her  and  bade  her  good  night  and  returned 
to  his  many  tasks.  He  had  visited  the  forts  and  bat- 
teries. He  had  communicated  with  every  outpost. 
His  plan  was  complete.  About  midnight,  when  he 
and  Solomon  were  lying  down  to  rest,  two  horsemen 
came  up  the  road  at  a  gallop  and  stopped  at  his  door. 
They  were  aides  of  Washington.  They  reported 
that  the  General  was  spending  the  night  at  the  house 
of  Henry  Jasper,  near  the  ferry,  and  would  reach 
camp  about  noon  next  day. 

"Thank  God  for  that  news,"  said  the  young  man. 
"Solomon,  I  think  that  we  can  sleep  better  to-night." 

"If  you're  awake  two  minutes  from  now  you'll 
hear  some  snorin',"  Solomon  answered  as  he  drew 
his  boots.  "I  ain't  had  a  good  bar'foot  sleep  in  a 
week.  I  don't  like  to  have  socks  er  luther  on  when 
I  wade  out  into  that  pond.  To-night,  I  guess,  we'll 
smell  the  water  lilies." 

Jack  was  awake  for  an  hour  thinking  of  the  great 
happiness  which  had  fallen  in  the  midst  of  his 
troubles  and  of  Thornhill  and  his  message.  He  heard 
the  two  aides  going  to  their  quarters.  Then  a  deep 


SOLOMON'S  LAST  FIGHT  401 

silence  fell  upon  the  camp,  broken  only  by  the  rumble 
of  distant  thunder  in  the  mountains  and  the  feet  of 
some  one  pacing  up  and  down  between  his  hut  and 
the  house  of  the  General.  He  put  on  his  long  coat 
and  slippers  and  went  out-of-doors. 

"Who's  there?"  he  demanded. 

"Arnold,"  was  the  answer.  "Taking  a  little  walk 
before  I  turn  in." 

There  was  a  weary,  pathetic  note  of  trouble  in  that 
voice,  long  remembered  by  the  young  man,  who  im- 
mediately returned  to  his  bed.  He  knew  not  that 
those  restless  feet  of  Arnold  were  walking  in  the 
flames  of  hell.  Had  some  premonition  of  what  had 
been  going  on  down  the  river  come  up  to  him  ?  Could 
he  hear  the  feet  of  that  horse,  now  galloping  north- 
ward  through  the  valleys  and  over  the  hills  toward 
him  with  evil  tidings?  No  more  for  this  man  was 
the  comfort  of  restful  sleep  or  the  joys  of  home  and 
friendship  and  affection.  Now  the  touch  of  his  wife's 
hand,  the  sympathetic  look  in  her  eyes  and  all  her 
babble  about  the  coming  marriage  were  torture  to 
him.  He  could  not  endure  it.  Worst  of  all,  he  was 
in  a  way  where  there  is  no  turning.  He  must  go 
on.  He  had  begun  to  know  that  he  was  suspected. 
The  conduct  of  the  scout,  Solomon  Binkus,  had  sug- 
gested that  he  knew  what  was  passing.  Arnold  had 
seen  the  aides  of  Washington 'as  they  came  in.  The 
chief  could  not  be  far  behind  them.  He  dreaded  to 


402     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

stand  before  him.  Compared  to  the  torture  now  be- 
ginning for  this  man,  the  fate  of  Bill  Scott  on  Rock 
Creek  in  the  wilderness,  had  been  a  mercy. 

Soon  after  sunrise  came  a  solitary  horseman, 
wearied  by  long  travel,  with  a  message  from  Colonel 
Jameson  to  Arnold.  A  man  had  been  captured  near 
Tarrytown  with  important  documents  on  his  person. 
He  had  confessed  that  he  was  Adjutant-General 
Andre  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton's  army.  The  worst  had 
come  to  pass.  Now  treason!  disgrace!  the  gibbet! 

Arnold  was  sitting  at  breakfast.  He  arose,  put  the 
message  in  his  pocket  and  went  out  of  the  room, 
The  Vulture  lay  down  the  river  awaiting  orders.  The 
traitor  walked  hurriedly  to  the  boat-landing.  Solo- 
mon was  there.  It  had  been  his  custom  when  in 
camp  to  go  down  to  the  landing  every  morning  with 
his  spy-glass  and  survey  the  river.  Only  one  boat- 
man was  at  the  dock. 

"Colonel  Binkus,  will  you  help  this  man  to  take 
me  down  to  the  British  ship?"  Arnold  asked.  "I 
have  an  engagement  with  its  commander  and  am  half 
an  hour  late." 

Solomon  had  had  much  curiosity  about  that  ship. 
He  wished  to  see  the  man  who  had  gone  into  the  bush 
and  then  to  Smith's  with  Arnold. 

"Sart'n,"  Solomon  answered. 

They  got  into  a  small  barge  with  the  General  in 
the  cushioned  rear  seat,  his  flag  in  hand. 

"Make  what  speed  you  can,"  said  the  General. 


SOLOMON'S  LAST  FIGHT  403 

The  oarsmen  bent  to  their  task  and  the  barge  swept 
on  by  the  forts.  A  Yankee  sloop  overhauled  and 
surveyed  them.  If  its  skipper  had  entertained  sus- 
picions they  were  dissipated  by  the  presence  of  Solo- 
mon Binkus  in  the  barge. 

They  came  up  to  The  Vulture  and  made  fast  at  its 
landing  stage  where  an  officer  waited  to  receive  the 
General.  The  latter  ascended  to  the  deck.  In  a 
moment  a  voice  called  from  above : 

"General   Arnold's  boatmen  may  come  aboard." 

A  British  war-ship  was  a  thing  of  great  interest 
to  Solomon.  Once  aboard  he  began  to  look  about 
him  at  the  shining  guns  and  their  gear  and  the  tackle 
and  the  men.  He  looked  for  Arnold,  but  he  was  not 
in  sight. 

Among  the  crew  then  busy  on  the  deck,  Solomon 
saw  the  Tory  desperado  "Slops,"  one  time  of  the  Ohio 
River  country,  with  his  black  pipe  in  his  mouth. 
Slops  paused  in  his  hauling  and  reeving  to  shake  a 
fist  at  Solomon.  They  were  heaving  the  anchor. 
The  sails  were  running  up.  The  ship  had  begun  to 
move.  What  was  the  meaning  of  this?  Solomon 
stepped  to  the  ship's  side.  The  stair  had  been  hove 
up  and  made  fast.  The  barge  was  not  to  be  seen. 

"They  will  put  you  all  ashore  below,"  an  officer 
said  to  him. 

Solomon  knew  too  much  about  Arnold  to  like  the 
look  of  this.  The  officer  went  forward.  Solomon 
stepped  to  the  opening  in  the  deck  rail,  not  yet  closed, 


404     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

through  which  he  had  come  aboard.  While  he  was 
looking  down  at  the  water,  some  ten  feet  below,  a 
group  of  sailors  came  to  fill  in.  His  arm  was  roughly 
seized.  Solomon  stepped  back.  Before  him  stood 
the  man  Slops.  An  insulting  word  from  the  latter, 
a  quick  blow  from  Solomon,  and  Slops  went  through 
the  gate  out  into  the  air  and  downward.  The  scout 
knew  it  was  no  time  to  tarry. 

"A  night  hawk  couldn't  dive  no  quicker  ner  what 
I  done,"  were  his  words  to  the  men  who  picked  him 
up.  He  was  speaking  of  that  half  second  of  the 
twenty- fourth  of  September,  1780.  His  brief  ac- 
count of  it  was  carefully  put  down  by  an  officer :  "I 
struck  not  twenty  feet  from  Slops,  which  I  seen  him 
jes'  comin'  up  when  I  took  water.  This  'ere  ol'  sloop 
that  had  overhauled  us  goin'  down  were  nigh.  Hadn't 
no  more'n  come  up  than  I  felt  Slops'  knife  rip  into 
my  leg.  I  never  had  no  practise  in  that  'ere  knife 
work.  'Tain't  fer  decent  folks,  but  my  ol'  Dan 
Skinner  is  allus  on  my  belt.  He'd  chose  the  weapons 
an'  so  I  fetched  'er  out.  Had  to  er  die.  We  fit  a 
minnit  thar  in  the  water.  All  the  while  he  had  that 
damn  black  pipe  in  his  mouth.  I  were  hacked  up  a 
leetle,  but  he  got  a  big  leak  in  him  an'  all  of  a  sudden 
he  wasn't  thar.  He'd  gone.  I  struck  out  with  ol' 
Dan  Skinner  'twixt  my  teeth.  Then  I  see  your  line  and 
grabbed  it.  Whar's  the  British  ship  now?" 

"'Way  below  Stony  P'int  an'  a  fair  wind  in  her 
sails,'  the  skipper  answered. 


SOLOMON'S  LAST   FIGHT  405 

"Bound  fer  New  York/'  said  Solomon  sorrowfully. 
"They'd  'a'  took  me  with  'em  if  I  hadn't  'a'  jumped. 
Put  me  over  to  Jasper's  dock.  I  got  to  see  Wash- 
ington quick." 

"Washington  has  gone  up  the  river." 

"Then  take  me  to  quarters  soon  as  ye  kin.  I'll 
give  ye  ten  pounds,  good  English  gold.  My  God, 
boys!  My  ol'  hide  is  leakin'  bad." 

He  turned  to  the  man  who  had  been  washing  and 
binding  his  wounds. 

"Sodder  me  up  best  ye  kin.  I  got  to  last  till  I  see 
the  Father." 

Solomon  and  other  men  in  the  old  army  had  often 
used  the  word  "Father"  in  speaking  of  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief.  It  served,  as  no  other  could,  to 
express  their  affection  for  him. 

The  wind  was  unfavorable  and  the  sloop  found  it 
difficult  to  reach  the  landing  near  headquarters. 
After  some  delay  Solomon  jumped  overboard  and 
swam  ashore. 

What  follows  he  could  not  have  told.  Washing- 
ton was  standing  with  his  orderly  in  the  little  door- 
yard  at  headquarters  as  Solomon  came  staggering  up 
the  slope  at  a  run  and  threw  his  body,  bleeding  from 
a  dozen  wounds,  at  the  feet  of  his  beloved  Chief. 

"Oh,  my  Father!"  he  cried  in  a  broken  voice  and 
with  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks.  "Arnold  has 
sold  Ameriky  an*  all  its  folks  an'  gone  down  the 


river." 


406     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Washington  knelt  beside  him  and  felt  his  bloody 
garments. 

'The  Colonel  is  wounded,"  he  said  to  his  orderly. 
"Go  for  help." 

The  scout,  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood,  tried  to  re- 
gain his  feet  but  failed.  He  lay  back  and  whis- 
pered : 

"I  guess  the  sap  has  all  oozed  out  o'  me  but  I  had 
enough." 

Washington  was  one  of  those  who  put  him  on  a 
stretcher  and  carried  him  to  the  hospital. 

When  he  was  lying  on  his  bed  and  his  clothes 
were  being  removed,  the  Commander-in-Chief  paid 
him  this  well  deserved  compliment  as  he  held  his 
hand: 

"Colonel,  when  the  war  is  won  it  will  be  only  be- 
cause I  have  had  men  like  you  to  help  me." 

Soon  Jack  came  to  his  side  and  then  Margaret. 
General  Washington  asked  the  latter  about  Mrs. 
Arnold. 

"My  mother  is  doing  what  she  can  to  comfort  her," 
Margaret  answered. 

Solomon  revived  under  stimulants  and  was  able  to 
tell  them  briefly  of  the  dire  struggle  he  had  had. 

"It  were  Slops  that  saved  me,"  he  whispered. 

He  fell  into  a  deep  and  troubled  sleep  and  when  he 
awoke  in  the  middle  of  the  night  he  was  not  strong 
enough  to  lift  his  head.  Then  these  faithful  friends 
of  his  began  to  know  that  this  big,  brawny,  redoubt- 


SOLOMON'S   LAST   FIGHT  407 

able  soldier  was  having  his  last  fight.     He  seemed  to 
be  aware  of  it  himself  for  he  whispered  to  Jack: 

"Take  keer  o'  Mirandy  an'  the  Little  Cricket." 

Late  the  next  day  he  called  for  his  Great  Father. 
Feebly  and  brokenly  he  had  managed  to  say : 

"Jes'  want— to — feel— his  hand." 

Margaret  had  sat  beside  him  all  day  helping  the 
nurse. 

A  dozen  times  Jack  had  left  his  work  and  run  over 
for  a  look  at  Solomon.  On  one  of  these  hurried  visits 
the  young  man  had  learned  of  the  wish  of  his  friend. 
He  went  immediately  to  General  Washington,  who 
had  just  returned  from  a  tour  of  the  forts.  The  latter 
saw  the  look  of  sorrow  and  anxiety  in  the  face  of  his 
officer. 

"How  is  the  Colonel?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  that  he  is  near  his  end,"  Jack  answered. 
"He  has  expressed  a  wish  to  feel  your  hand  again." 

"Let  us  go  to  him  at  once,"  said  the  other.  "There 
has  been  no  greater  man  in  the  army." 

Together  they  went  to  the  bedside  of  the  faithful 
scout.  The  General  took  his  hand.  -Margaret  put 
her  lips  close  to  Solomon's  ear  and  said : 

"General  Washington  has  come  to  see  you." 

Solomon  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled.  Then  there 
was  a  beauty  not  of  this  world  in  his  homely  face. 
And  that  moment,  holding  the  hand  he  had  loved  and 
served  and  trusted,  the  heroic  soul  of  Solomon  Binkus 
went  out  upon  "the  lonesome  trail." 


408     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

Jack,  who  had  been  kneeling  at  his  side,  kissed  his 
white  cheek. 

"Oh,  General,  I  knew  and  loved  this  man!"  said 
the  young  officer  as  he  arose. 

"It  will  be  well  for  our  people  to  know  what  men 
like  him  have  endured  for  them,"  said  Washing- 
ton. 

"I  shall  have  to  learn  how  to  live  without  him," 
said  Jack.  "It  will  be  hard." 

Margaret  took  his  arm  and  they  went  out  of  the 
door  and  stood  a  moment  looking  off  at  the  glowing 
sky  above  the  western  hills. 

"Now  you  have  me,"  she  whispered. 

He  bent  and  kissed  her. 

"No  man  could  have  a  better  friend  and  fighting 
mate  than  you,"  he  answered. 

3 

"  'We  spend  our  years  as  a  tale  that  is  told/  "  Jack 
wrote  from  Philadelphia  to  his  wife  in  Albany  on  the 
thirtieth  of  June,  1787:  "Dear  Margaret,  we  thought 
that  the  story  was  ended  when  Washington  won. 
Five  years  have  passed,  as  a  watch  in  the  night,  and 
the  most  impressive  details  are  just  now  falling  out. 
You  recall  our  curiosity  about  Henry  Thornhill? 
When  stopping  at  Kinderhook  I  learned  that  the  only 
man  of  that  name  who  had  lived  there  had  been  lying 
in  his  grave  these  twenty  years.  He  was  one  of  the 
first  dreamers  about  Liberty.  What  think  you  of 
that?  I,  for  one,  can  not  believe  that  the  man  I  saw 
was  an  impostor.  Was  he  an  angel  like  those  who 


SOLOMON'S  LAST  FIGHT  409 

visited  the  prophets?  Who  shall  say?  Naturally,  I 
think  often  of  the  look  of  him  and  of  his  sudden 
disappearance  in  that  Highland  road.  And,  looking 
back  at  Thornhill,  this  thought  comes  to  me :  Who 
can  tell  how  many  angels  he  has  met  in  the  way  of 
life  all  unaware  of  the  high  commission  of  his  visitor? 

"On  my  westward  trip  I  found  that  the  Indians 
who  once  dwelt  in  The  Long  House  were  scattered. 
Only  a  tattered  remnant  remains.  Near  old  Fort 
Johnson  I  saw  a  squaw  sitting  in  her  blanket.  Her 
face  was  wrinkled  with  age  and  hardship.  Her  eyes 
were  nearly  blind.  She  held  in  her  withered  hands 
the  ragged,  moth  eaten  tail  of  a  gray  wolf.  I  asked 
her  why  she  kept  the  shabby  thing. 

"  'Because  of  the  hand  that  gave  it,'  she  answered 
in  English.  'I  shall  take  it  with  me  to  The  Happy 
Hunting-Grounds.  When  he  sees  it  he  will  know  me/ 

"So  quickly  the  beautiful  Little  White  Birch  had 
faded. 

"At  Mount  Vernon,  Washington  was  as  dignified 
as  ever  but  not  so  grave.  He  almost  joked  when  he 
spoke  of  the  sculptors  and  portrait  painters  who  have 
been  a  great  bother  to  him  since  the  war  ended. 

"  'Now  no  dray  horse  moves  more  readily  to  the 
thill  than  I  to  the  painter's  chair/  he  said. 

"When  I  arrived  the  family  was  going  in  to  dinner 
and  they  waited  until  I  could  make  myself  ready  to 
join  them.  The  jocular  Light  Horse  Harry  Lee  was 
there.  His  anecdotes  delighted  the  great  man.  I  had 
never  seen  G.  W.  in  better  humors  A  singularly  pleas- 


410     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

ant  smile  lighted  his  whole  countenance.  I  can  never 
forget  the  gentle  note  in  his  voice  and  his  dignified 
bearing.  It  was  the  same  whether  he  were  addressing 
his  guests  or  his  family.  The  servants  watched  him 
closely.  A  look  seemed  to  be  enough  to  indicate  his 
wishes.  The  faithful  Billy  was  always  at  his  side.  I 
have  never  seen  a  sweeter  atmosphere  in  any  home. 
We  sat  an  hour  at  the  table  after  the  family  had  re- 
tired from  it.  In  speaking  of  his  daily  life  he  said : 

'  'I  ride  around  my  farms  until  it  is  time  to  dress  for 
dinner,  when  I  rarely  miss  seeing  strange  faces,  come, 
as  they  say,  out  of  respect  for  me.  Perhaps  the  word 
curiosity  would  better  describe  the  cause  of  it.  The 
usual  time  of  sitting  at  table  brings  me  to  candle-light 
when  I  try  to  answer  my  letters/ 

"He  had  much  to  say  on  his  favorite  theme,  viz. : 
the  settling  of  the  immense  interior  and  bringing  its 
trade  to  the  Atlantic  cities. 

"I  was  coughing  with  a  severe  cold.  He  urged  me 
to  take  some/emedies  which  he  had  in  the  house,  but 
I  refused  them. 

"He  went  to  his  office  while  Lee  and  I  sat  down  to- 
gether. The  latter  told  me  of  a  movement  in  the  army 
led  by  Colonel  Nichola  to  make  Washington  king  of 
America.  He  had  seen  Washington's  answer  to  the 
letter  of  the  Colonel.  It  was  as  follows: 

"  'Be  assured,  sir,  no  occurrence  in  the  course  of  the 
war  has  given  me  sensations  more  painful  than  your 
information  of  there  being  such  ideas  in  the  army  as 


SOLOMON'S  LAST  FIGHT  411 

those  you  have  imparted  to  me  and  I  must  view  them 
with  abhorrence  and  reprehend  them  with  severity.  I 
am  much  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  part  of  my  conduct 
could  have  given  encouragement  to  an  address  which 
to  me  seems  big  with  the  greatest  mischiefs  which 
could  befall  my  country.' 

"Is  it  not  a  sublime  and  wonderful  thing,  dear  Mar- 
garet, that  all  our  leaders,  save  one,  have  been  men  as 
incorruptible  as  Stephen  and  Peter  and  Paul  ? 

"When  I  went  to  bed  my  cough  became  more  trou- 
blesome. After  it  had  gone  on  for  half  an  hour  or  so 
my  door  was  gently  opened  and  I  observed  the  glow  of 
a  candle.  On  drawing  my  bed  curtains  I  saw,  to  my 
utter  astonishment,  Washington  standing  at  my  side 
with  a  bowl  of  hot  tea  in  his  hand.  It  embarrassed 
me  to  be  thus  waited  on  by  a  man  of  his  greatness. 

"We  set  out  next  morning  for  Philadelphia  to  at- 
tend the  Convention,  Washington  riding  in  his  coach 
drawn  by  six  horses,  I  riding  the  blaze-faced  mare  of 
destiny,  still  as  sweet  and  strong  as  ever.  A  slow 
journey  it  was  over  the  old  road  by  Cal vert's  to  Annap- 
olis, Chestertown,  and  so  on  to  the  north. 

"I  found  Franklin  sitting  under  a  tree  in  his  door- 
yard,  surrounded  by  his  grandchildren.  He  looks  very 
white  and  venerable  now.  His  hair  is  a  crown  of 
glory. 

1  'Well,  Jack,  it  has  been  no  small  part  of  my  life- 
work  to  get  you  happily  married,'  he  began  in  his  play- 
ful way.  'A  celibate  is  like  the  odd  half  of  a  pair  of 


412     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

scissors,  fit  only  to  scrape  a  trencher.  How  many 
babies  have  you  ?' 

"  'Three,'  I  answered. 

"  'It  is  not  half  enough/  said  he.  'A  patriotic  Amer- 
ican should  have  at  least  ten  children.  I  must  not  for- 
get to  say  to  you  what  I  say  to  every  young  man. 
Always  treat  your  wife  with  respect.  It  will  procure 
respect  for  you  not  only  from  her,  but  from  all  who 
observe  it.  Never  use  a  slighting  word.' 

"My  beloved,  how  little  I  need  this  advice  you  know, 
but  I  think  that  the  old  philosopher  never  made  a  wiser 
observation.  I  am  convinced  that  civilization  itself  de- 
pends largely  on  the  respect  that  men  feel  and  show  for 
women. 

"I  asked  about  his  health. 

"  'I  am  weary  and  the  night  is  falling  and  I  shall 
soon  lie  down  to  sleep,  but  I  know  that  I  shall  awake 
refreshed  in  the  morning,'  he  said. 

"He  told  me  how,  distressed  by  his  infirmity,  he 
came  out  of  France  in  the  Queen's  litter,  carried  by 
her  magnificent  mules.  Of  England  he  had  only  this  to 
say: 

"  'She  is  doing  wrong  in  discouraging  emigration  to 
America.  Emigration  multiplies  a  nation.  She  should 
be  represented  in  the  growth  of  the  New  World  by  men 
who  have  a  voice  in  its  government.  By  this  fair 
means  she  could  repossess  it  instead  of  leaving  it  to 
foreigners,  of  all  nations,  who  may  drown  and  stifle 
sympathy  for  the  mother  land.  It  is  now  a  fact  that 


SOLOMON'S  LAST  FIGHT  413 

Irish  emigrants  and  their  children  are  in  possession 
of  the  government  of  Pennsylvania.' 

"I  must  not  fail  to  set  down  here  in  the  hope  that 
my  sons  may  some  time  read  it,  what  he  said  to  me  of 
the  treason  of  Arnold. 

'  'Here  is  the  vindication  of  Poor  Richard.  Extrav- 
agance is  not  the  way  to  self-satisfaction.  The  man 
who  does,  not  keep  his  feet  in  the  old,  honest  way  of 
thrift  will  some  time  sell  himself,  and  then  he  will  be 
ready  to  sell  his  friends  or  his  country.  By  and  by 
nothing  is  so  dear  to  him  as  thirty  pieces  of  silver.' 

"I  shall  conclude  my  letter  with  a  beautiful  confes- 
sion of  faith  by  this  master  mind  of  the  century.  It 
was  made  on  the  motion  for  daily  prayers  in  the  Con- 
vention now  drafting  a  constitution  for  the  States.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  look  of  him  as,  standing  on  the 
lonely  summit  of  his  eighty  years,  he  said  to  us : 

"  'In  the  beginning  of  our  contest  with  Britain  when 
we  were  sensible  of  danger,  we  had  daily  prayers  in 
this  room  for  Divine  protection.  Our  prayers,  sirs, 
were  heard  and  they  were  graciously  answered.  All  of 
us  who  were  engaged  in  the  struggle  must  have  ob- 
served frequent  instances  of  a  directing  Provi- 
dence in  our  affairs.  And  have  we  forgotten  that 
powerful  friend  ?  Or  do  we  imagine  that  we  no  longer 
need  His  assistance?  I  have  lived,  sirs,  a  long  time  and 
the  longer  I  live  the  more  convincing  proof  I  see  of 
this  truth  that  God  governs  in  the  affairs  of  men.  And 
if  a  sparrow  can  not  fall  to  the  ground  without  His 


414     IN  THE  DAYS  OF  POOR  RICHARD 

notice  is  it  probable  that  an  empire  can  rise  without 
His  aid?  We  have  been  assured,  sirs,  that  except  the 
Lord  build  the  house  they  labor  in  vain  who  build  it. 
I  firmly  believe  this  and  I  also  believe  that  without  His 
concurring  aid  we  shall  succeed  in  this  political  struc- 
ture no  better  than  the  builders  of  Babel;  we  shall  be 
divided  and  confounded  and  we  ourselves  become  a 
reproach  and  a  byword  down  to  future  ages.  And, 
what  is  worse,  mankind  may  hereafter  despair  of 
establishing  government  by  human  wisdom  and  leave 
it  to  chance,  war  and  conquest.' 

"Dear  Margaret,  you  and  I  who  have  been  a  part  of 
the  great  story  know  full  well  that  in  these  words  of 
our  noble  friend  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter." 

THE  END 


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Bacheller,  I. 

In  the  days  of  Poor 


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